The Dance of Life
by gymnastics-lover
Summary: In the year AC 196, the gundam team has joined the Preventers organization. Their lives have settled into a comfortable routine until Commander Une comes up with a unique mission for them. One that even Heero might find difficult...
1. Default Chapter

**Chapter 1: Dance**

Quatre sighed quietly as he listened with half an ear to his friends' bantering. Somehow, he didn't have a good feeling about the impending meeting with Commander Une. After the war, the five gundam pilots had begun working for the preventers. They had become an unstoppable team; the last line of defence for peace. Quatre closed his eyes in contemplation; He hadn't always aspired to join the Preventers. There had been a time, just after the war, when he had thought he could return home, to L4 and his father's company. Quatre took a deep breath and looked up at the clock: 10 minutes to debriefing. He brought his hands up to his face, massaging his temples as the memories of how he had lost everything came to mind unbidden.

Quatre carefully stepped down from the shuttle that had taken him to L4. The airport was deserted except for the few janitors who had not finished their work for the night. He swallowed the hurt feeling that surfaced when he realized that none of his sisters had bothered come to the shuttleport to greet him. That was alright, he told himself; he didn't know his sisters very well at all. There were even a few he hadn't met yet. Of the few he had known, some had been kind, but others had not. Many had always seemed dissatisfied with him. It wasn't really surprising that they hadn't come to meet him. Since Iria had died, he hadn't kept in touch with his family. He clenched his teeth at the wave of sadness her memory had brought him. Iria had been so kind to him; loving, almost like the mother he had never had. He hoped that he could make a fresh start with his remaining sisters. It would be nice to finally be a family.

He stepped out onto the curb, braving the rain to hail a taxi. Wallowing in self-pity would not do. He climbed into it and tried not to think about how little he was looking forward to taking over Winner Enterprises. He hated dealing with the upperclass businessmen; the "gentlemen" that so often frequented the building when they wanted to make a deal with the owner of Winner Enterprises. Corruption and greed were the ruling characteristics among these men. Lost in anxiety and dread, he didn't notice that they had arrived at their destination until the taxi driver tapped him on the shoulder.

He had tipped the driver and stepped out into the pouring rain. Looking up at the huge gates that guarded entry into the Winner grounds, Quatre felt a mixture of awe and disgust. The mansion looked dark and deserted. Eyes huge and fists clenched, Quatre stared at the intimidating excuse for a home. He felt unsure of himself, not for the first time since landing on L4.

"Stop that!" he told himself, "You are a gundam pilot and you will not balk before your own buildings!"

However, something inside him told him he would never look upon Winner Enterprises as his home. Gathering his courage, he prayed to whatever deity that was listening that the gate codes hadn't been changed since he'd last been there. Punching them in, he realized with a sigh of relief that they hadn't. He frowned; glad as he was of that the codes hadn't changed, he knew that it was poor security. If he was going to be in charge of this place, he was going to have to make some changes.

Closing the gates behind him as he went, he strode up to the mansion. Lifting his chin and straightening his back, he knocked twice with an enormous lion-headed knocker. Immediately, he heard scuffling as someone got up to answer the door. He felt reassured; they were expecting him after all. However the face that he saw when the door swung open was neither familiar nor friendly.

"Quatre," the woman before him acknowledged with a nod of her head, but she didn't open the door any wider.

The woman looked to be in her late twenties to her early thirties. Quatre guessed that she was one of his sisters. She had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes like Quatre's, but that was where the similarities ended. Her face held neither compassion nor gentleness.. Her gaze was distinctly cold, calculating. It was making Quatre more and more uncomfortable. His discomfort only grew when she, apparently without any intention of letting him in, leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarette. A pregnant silence ensued. It was broken when the woman sighed and said in a cold tone of voice:

"Quatre, I'm one of your sisters. My name is Naimah, and I see that I'm going that have to be blunt with you. Father disinherited and disowned you when you went out into space to fight! You compromised the family's ideals, and everything that we stand for as Winners. As such, we cannot in good conscience let you come back and run the company: we don't trust you anymore. Father died because of a war that you helped to start."

Suddenly her cold expression melted and her face crumpled, a sob shaking her thin shoulders. She quickly composed herself, and went on.

"We don't want _any_ kind of relationship with you, business related or otherwise."

Shocked, Quatre took this in. He had known that he wouldn't exactly be welcome back home, but he hadn't expected this… total disownment. He had known that it was possible his father had disinherited him, but disowning was something entirely different. It meant that he could no longer call himself a Winner, and that the girl in front of him was no longer his sister. Trying to control the tremor in his voice, he asked,

"Naimah, I believe you when you say that father disinherited me, but I refuse to believe he hated me enough to disown me! That's… I will need to see that in writing before I believe it."

Quatre clenched his hands to stop the shaking that had begun as soon as Naimah had started to talk.

Naimah barely kept her cool. How could Quatre think he could just go and fight in a war, especially a war that he had helped to start! It went against everything their family and more specifically their father stood for. How could he expect a warm welcome when he back into the family? Not only had he fought, but he had piloted a gundam! They were among the fiercest killing machines in the war. Her husband was an ex-oz soldier. He had told her the truth about Quatre. He was among the cruelest of murderers. He didn't even deserve to be alive, let alone managing _her_ company… but Naimah wasn't a cruel person at heart. Quatre _was_ right, at least about one thing. She felt she had to tell him the truth.

"Quatre, you're right. Father didn't disown you. But he did disinherit you, and he left everything to Iria. As you are no doubt aware, Iria also died in the war." _That you helped to start, _Naimah added to herself. "When Iria died, authority over the company and everyone in it passed to us sisters. We took a vote, and decided as a whole that we just could not forgive you all you have done. We disowned you the very same week father died."

"But-but Naimah!"

"Did you think you could go out and fight in the war, disregarding everything our family has always stood for without consequences? Not only did you fight _in a gundam,_ but you refused to even grant father's dying wish, that you stop fighting. It was all he ever wanted, Quatre, to know that he had taught you correctly and that you would be a responsible and loving heir! But instead you are a remorseless murderer. You broke his heart! Go away, Quatre. Don't come back! We don't want you here. You are a disgrace to father and our family."

With that, the door was slammed in his face, and Quatre was left standing pathetically on the doorstep in the pouring rain, trying to control his reaction.

A gentle tap on the shoulder brought him back to the present. He looked up and saw Trowa looking down at him in concern. He was embarrassed to find that he had tears rolling down his cheeks. He angrily wiped them away. Smiling at Trowa, he told him he was okay. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder was all he got in response, but he was understood.

The pilots had all grown somewhat in the two years it had been since the war. Heero was about 5 foot 6 inches tall. He was still quite slight of build, although he had filled somewhat. Duo was perhaps the most dramatically changed, standing at a well-muscled 5 foot 9. Trowa stood at 5 foot 10, and though he was still quite thin, he had broadened somewhat in the shoulders. Quatre had grown a little too, although he was quite dissatisfied with his own height. He stood at a meager 5 foot 3. His features, though had matured; he had lost some of the baby fat in his face. He had also gained quite a bit of muscle, and though he was still slender, he made up for what he lacked in height. Wufei stood at about 5 foot 5, although he was well-muscled and quite wiry. They had all changed.

They proceeded down the hallway in an orderly fashion towards Commander Une's office. When they reached the end of the hallway, Heero, who was in the lead, looked back at them questioningly. Wufei took a look at his watch, and nodded back at Heero, who opened the door. They filed into Une's office and stood at attention until they were acknowledged.

"At ease, gentlemen." Une said without looking up from her desk.

In perfect unison, the gundam team changed positions. Une put away her paperwork and smiled at them.

"You all know how appreciative the Preventers are of your continued impeccable service to our organization." She seemed to struggle with her next words, and was silent, ntil Wufei, bristling with impatience, said,

"With all due respect, Commander, please just say whatever it is that you want to say."

Wincing as though she had been struck, Une acquiesced.

"Very well, I will get to the point. You are all excellent soldiers, but we, as preventers feel that the skills required to be a good soldier are not sufficient to get a person through life. None of you had what anyone could consider a normal childhood. Consequently, none of you have the people skills or the experience interact in a normal way. Therefore, I have decided that the best course of action is to send you all to school, where you will be free to develop your social skills and maturity. You will be placed in appropriate classes at a school called Saint Christopher's high school. You will graduate with other teenagers of your age group.

She got up and walked around her desk to stand in front of the stunned group of teenage soldiers.

"You may consider this a mission, Preventer Yuy," she said adjusting her glasses and smiling at him when he made a move to speak.

Heero nodded, but Duo wasn't satisfied.

"Commander, we are _not_ normal teenagers. I think I speak for everyone when I say you need to fuck off if you think we are going to abandon our duty just so that we can go and have a 'normal' childhood. I will not be that selfish! What if there was a rebellion or something of that caliber broke out and we were sitting on our butts in Saint friggin Christopher's unable to do anything and unaware of the situation!" He finished on a softer tone, "I would never forgive myself."

Une's face, which had gone stony after the first expletive left his mouth, softened when she heard that.

"Don't worry, Preventer Maxwell. You will be provided with communication devices which you will be expected to wear at all times that will enable us to contact you in emergencies. In the event that an emergency should occur, the communication device, which will also serve as a watch, in order to quell suspicions, will commence beeping. You will leave whichever class you are in, and you will press a button which will allow you to communicate with the dispatcher. We will arrange transportation."

Turning so that her back was facing the pilots, she asked,

"Are there any more questions or comments?" A few moments passed, and then Heero replied,

"Negative."

"Good. You may leave to prepare yourselves. You leave tomorrow at 06:00 hours."

Turning back around so she was facing the pilots, she looked straight into Duo's eyes.

"Maxwell, the use of such language is inappropriate. Might I remind you that I am your _Commander_? You will control yourself in future. Is that understood?"

Duo looked at the ground.

"Ma'am." He replied.

"Good." She said.

A few moments later, she barked,

"Dismissed!"

The gundam team left the room without as much as a sound.


	2. Tarantella

**Chapter 2: Tarantella**

The next morning at precisely 04:25 hours, Wufei's eyes snapped open. He lay awake, blinking stupidly for a minute, trying to figure out why his stomach was a pit of dread. When memory finally flooded back to him, he had to suppress the urge to bury his head in the pillow and scream. Instead, he let out a low moan and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. He got up, knowing that his movements would awaken his sleeping roommates. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he headed over to the laundry basket, where he knew he would find his newly cleaned clothes. As he rummaged through the pile of clothing, his eyes widened.

"Injustice! And today of all days!"

"What's up, Wufei?" Duo asked in a would-be casual tone as he tossed the covers aside and got out of bed.

There was a long pause before Wufei answered. Seething, he took a few deep breaths, calming himself before responding.

"Duo, was it your turn to do laundry this week?"

"Why, yes, Wufei, it was. How ever did you know?"

Duo's innocent tone didn't fool Wufei for one minute. His eyes flashed and his tone turned took on a dangerous edge.

"And did you, perhaps make a small mistake while doing it?"

"Umm… maybe? I didn't really check." Duo flashed a grin at Wufei, hoping to win him over. It was futile.

"Perhaps I should be more specific then, Maxwell. Did you, perhaps, by mistake, put my clothes in the same washer as your red basketball jersey?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I might have done something like that… yeah. I guess your clothes aren't white anymore, are they?"

Wufei growled in irritation.

"Well, that's what you get for wearing white, 'fei. I've told you time and time again it's not practical."

Wufei only grunted in response.

"You can't seriously expect me to wear these."

"Weeelll, I've often thought about what you might look like in pink. I hear it brings out a golden complexion—"

"Duo! Stop baiting Wufei and get on with it," Heero growled in irritation. "Wufei, you can borrow a pair of my jeans. Duo will spend a happy few hours at the washer when he next gets a chance bleaching your clothes." Heero looked to Duo for confirmation.

"Oh! of course. Sorry Wufei, it really was an accident. I didn't notice I'd put the jersey in there."

Looking somewhat mollified, Wufei caught the jeans Heero threw him, and turned back to the laundry pile.

"But, you know… you would have looked very pretty in that shade of pink."

Giggling slightly at his own less than stellar humour, he was silenced when his customary priest-collared shirt hit him in the face. He looked up to see Wufei smirking at him from over by the dresser. Heero grunted in gratitude as his own green muscle shirt and jeans were passed to him, much more civilly of course. Within seconds, a mad dash between Duo and Wufei to get to the bathroom first ensued. Ultimately, the door was slammed in Duo's face because Wufei was closer to begin with. As Duo sat down dejectedly beside Heero on their bottom bunk, Heero shook his head in private humour at his friends' antics.

Quatre, for his part, needed no alarm clock to wake him that morning. He was awoken by a piercing cry that emanated from the top bunk. Soldier instincts kicking in, he was awake and standing in 3 seconds flat. Hearing a rustling of blankets and a soft whimper, he realized what and who had woken him up. With agility no teenager should possess in the early hours of the morning, he climbed up to the top bunk. There, he found Trowa, shaking and gasping.. Sighing softly, he clambered onto the bunk with Trowa, ignoring the ominous creaking sound of the old bed sagging under their combined weight. Brushing away Trowa's sweaty bangs, he tentatively put his arms around his shoulders, unsure of how much physical contact Trowa would be able to endure. Despite Quatre's misgivings, Trowa leaned into the comforting touch, and soon he was nestled comfortably in Quatre's embrace. Quatre rocked him quietly for a few minutes, waiting until Trowa's soft sobbing had all but stopped before separating from his best friend. There was no need for dialogue, the two were so in tune with each other that each knew almost exactly what the other wanted or needed without asking. Leaving Trowa alone for some much needed thinking time, Quatre left the room and wandered down the hallway towards the mess hall. Once what he deemed a sufficient amount of time had passed he headed back towards their room, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. When he entered, a newly showered Trowa threw him a grateful look as he took his own cup and downed the hot drink almost in one gulp. Quatre smiled gently and said,

"We're running a bit behind schedule, so we'd better hurry up. If you're ready, we should probably get something to eat in about 5 minutes, after I've had a shower."

At this Trowa merely nodded, and the two went about their morning routines.

At precisely 06:00 hours, Commander Une opened the door to her office to find her five protégées standing at attention just outside it. Their punctuality was impressive, and Une regretted that the Preventers organization could not take credit for training these five. She had a fleeting moment of sadness for their lost childhoods. It just wasn't normal for a teenager to be standing outside her office door, silent, immaculately dressed and ready to go at 06:00 hours of the morning. She hoped that the school would show them a bit about normal life, and that one day, they would be able to let go of some of their inhibitions. However, Une was not one to ignore reality; she understood that they would always be soldiers. She knew that it would be foolish to hope that they would be assimilated completely into society. The five of them would likely remain with Preventers, putting down uprisings and securing peace for the rest of their natural lives. Regardless, Une hoped that by getting a taste of what normal, teenaged life was all about, they would loosen up, learn to have fun, and maybe forget the enormous burden that was placed on their slim shoulders at such a young age, if only for a time. Allowing a quick smile to grace her lips, she questioned:

"Shall we be off?"

"Are you coming with us, Commander?" Duo asked with some of his shock apparent in his voice.

"No, Preventer Maxwell," Une said trying to suppress a chuckle, "Only as far as the Shuttleport." Turning to Heero, she said, "unless I am sorely mistaken, Preventer Yuy, you have done some research regarding the mission in question. While we walk to the taxi waiting to collect you five, would you care to inform your comrades about where you are going?"

Heero nodded and turned his head to address his friends.

"We are headed to the L1 colony. Saint Christopher's is a co-educational high school that prides itself in both academic and athletic excellence," he said gruffly, "It is situated in a small town called Eastwood," he finished. He looked to his Commander for approval.

"Excellent, Preventer Yuy, and now, I believe we have arrived at the taxi. Please get in."

The five pilots piled in, but soon found there was not enough room for them all. Duo grinned ruefully,

"Since Wufei and Quatre are the smallest, they're gonna have to double buckle."

The others nodded in approval, Quatre sighing and Wufei muttering about "Injustices to his person."

Wufei turned to Quatre, and retorted seriously:

"Don't worry, Quatre. Duo's just jealous that he's too fat to sit with us."

Quatre chuckled at that, his laughter obscuring any of the usual awkwardness of sharing a seat.

Une smiled to herself. The boys were already beginning to act more their age, they just needed a bit of a push in the right direction. She hoped that he had made the right decision; that their stay at St. Christopher's would help them to adjust to a world of peace. When they were finally settled with Une in the front seat, the taxi driver drove off. The ride to the shuttleport was a quiet one, each pilot nursing private insecurities about attending a normal high school.


	3. Waltz in A minor

**Chapter 3: Waltz in A Minor**

The ride to L1 was long and uneventful, unless you count Duo becoming antsy and annoying both Heero and Wufei to the point at which his very life was in danger and a stewardess had to ask them to be quieter. As they finally disembarked, the artificial sunlight glared harshly, causing the pilots to shield their eyes and grunt almost simultaneously. When next they were all able to see, they found themselves standing in front of a young brunette woman.

"Hello! You must be the new students." Without waiting for a response, she chattered on, "I'm Miss Jenkins, the assistant secretary at Saint Christopher's High School. The principal told me to tell you that he was extremely sorry for not coming to meet you, but that something came up and that he tried to send the assistant principal, but she was busy too. So I'm here to take you to the school! Isn't that great?"

The gundam team blinked, dazed by this long speal of chatter. Wufei recovered first. Extending his hand, he said politely,

"We are grateful that you made the time out of your no doubt busy schedule to guide us to your school. We are very pleased to make your acquaintance."

He managed to pull this off with a completely straight face, his tone both respectful and leisurely without a note of sarcasm. Unfortunately, this effort was lost on the woman, who responded,

"Great! Now get in the car and we'll go!"

The pilots looked and discovered that while their attention had been captured while they deciphered the fast-paced drivel that came out of the lady's mouth; a taxi had driven up beside them. They climbed in, and within minutes, were driving down the streets of L1. The colony was by no standards aesthetically beautiful, in fact, the effects of the war were quite apparent here. Buildings were riddled with water damage from the sporadic fighting, and here and there were empty lots filled with the charred remains of houses or businesses. None of the pilots commented, though, they were used to destruction. Yet there were signs of normal life resuming. People were re-opening the undamaged small businesses and a few young children could be seen playing in their front yards. After about half an hour, the car came to a stop in front of a large, cream coloured building that proudly bore the lettering "Saint Christopher's High School."

The young woman got out of the car with the five boys. Opening the a large twisting gate that connected to a simple, black fence that appeared to go the whole way around the school, she beckoned at the team to come in. The pilots were lost in wonder. They had been to schools before, on missions and such, but never to one they would be attending for more than a month. Suddenly, apprehension was thick in the air. Quatre could feel it radiating from both himself and the others. It was a new kind of apprehension: fear, mixed with dread and a tiny hint of distrustful excitement.

Quatre had never been to school before in his life, unless one counted the time he spent at the academy in the Sanq Kingdom with Heero. It was not as if his father had neglected his education. No! There could be nothing but the best for the Winner heir. However, his father believed that Quatre would grow up to be the most intelligent, charismatic, and the best strategist in the world, and he would stand for no less. He had lessons on everything from public speaking to music. Mr. Winner was rarely at home, and he gave Quatre's tutors full authoritative power over him. Quatre shuddered, remembering the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the tutors and servants his father had employed. Most of his teachers had been embittered men who were jealous of his father and thought of Quatre as a spoiled brat who needed discipline. Therefore, he was quite accustomed to physical and mental abuse, which contributed to the state the Maguanacs had found him in when he had finally run away at the age of 13.

Somehow, through it all, he had managed to become quite resilient mentally. His empathic abilities had helped. He had always tried to channel the anger, hatred, and resentment felt regularly in his household into himself, trying as hard as he could to come up with matching levels of compassion and gentleness in himself, so he could create a balance. When things had gotten really bad, he would often lock himself away and play his violin for hours, creating for himself a world of beauty and tranquility unrivaled in his life. He shook himself from his reverie. The point was, that this was an opportunity for him to start all over again, and he wasn't sure if he liked that idea, hated it, or was deathly afraid of it.

Heero's POV

As we approached the school, I felt an unfamiliar feeling in my gut. Apprehension, perhaps? I watched the teenagers playing soccer in the field in front of the school. I had lost control of myself, but, as much as that infuriated me, I just could not take my gaze away from those kids. Kids like me. I saw a boy kicking the ball and yelling to his friend to run up the field for it. That boy could have been me. Suddenly, mission or no, I was not sure I was up to completing it. I felt sick, in a very real, very physical sense. Who was I kidding? Who were we kidding? We could not do this. We could not be those kids. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, and looked up to find Duo staring down concernedly. I was not very good at expressing myself, so I gave my best try at a reassuring glance. When that seemed to only further his confusion, I said aloud,

"I'm okay, Duo." As an afterthought, I added, "Thank you for your concern."

He smiled that clownish smile of his, that I know very well is just as much a protective front as my coldness. We all have them: Quatre's sunny smiles, Trowa's deathly silences, and Wufei's strong, in your face attitude.

"Anytime, buddy."

The car stopped, and the pilots filed out in an orderly fashion, barely refraining from gaping in awe at the sunny, peaceful atmosphere of the school. On either side of the walkway leading into the school, there were well-watered, green fields. Suddenly, a soccer ball flew from the field to the left.

Wufei's POV

I was too busy staring at the school to notice the soccer ball flying in my direction. When I finally did see it out of the corner of my eye, it was out of reflex alone that I caught it before it smashed into my nose. I stared at it numbly for a few seconds, trying to process the fact that I would be learning again at a school. I felt a tap on my shoulder and barely controlled my surprised reaction. This was not good; I was letting my guard down. I turned around, very, very slowly with my best intimidating glare on. I would not show my fear that I was barely keeping under control. The kid behind me looked about 13. He was about my height so I didn't have to look up. That had been happening way too often lately. The kid gulped when he saw the look on my face, and took an involuntary step backwards.

"Could I have my ball back?" The kid squeaked in a frightened tone of voice.

Realizing I still had the thing crushed in a death grip, I slowly handed it back to him. To my surprise, the kid burst into tears and took off, the ball tucked safely under his arm. The assistant principal beside me called after him,

"Simon! Simon, come back! It's alright." The kid didn't stop. He ran all the way inside the school and didn't come out. The lady then rounded on me.

"Why on earth did you do that?"

"Do what?"

I was nonplussed. All I had done was glare at him, trying to overcome my own feelings. He shouldn't have had that kind of reaction. I wasn't that scary, was I?

"Don't try to tell me you don't know what you did! You were looking at him like he was some kind of dirt on your shoe! You can't just go around scaring people like that here. Well, I guess you didn't know, but still!"

I felt Quatre's hand on my shoulder, I guess some of my distress must have been showing in my body language. I scared him? Why was that all people ever told me? Didn't they understand that I was scared too? Realizing exactly how whiny that sounded, even in my own head, I turned my attention to other matters just in time to hear Heero interjecting.

"What don't we know?" He said in that demanding, in control type of voice that I envied so much.

"Come inside and I'll tell you." The lady said, and with a flourish, she turned around, her skirt blowing in the wind.

We followed her inside.

End Wufei's POV

They walked down a long, empty corridor; it was lunch hour and everyone was outside. All five boys were almost too busy memorizing the layout of the building to notice when they arrived at their destination. The principal's office was huge. The waiting room alone was about the size of an average classroom, and was empty with the exception of a few chairs and a secretary's desk at the other end of the room. They sat down in the chairs and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, a tall, well-built Asian man stepped out of his office.

"Ah, I take it you must be the new students."

The gundam team looked at each other, uncertain of the appropriate response to such an obvious question. As it turned out, however, no response was needed or expected. The principal ushered them into his office, dismissing Miss Jenkins with a wave of his hand as he did so. Once inside, they were seated, and a slightly awkward silence ensued while the principal seemed to decide how to begin.

"I have been informed of your identities by the Preventers organization."

This statement was met with tensed shoulders, worried glances, and a threatening grunt from Heero.

Quatre then made himself heard, "If you don't mind my asking, sir, if you know who we are, why are you willing to take the risk of having us in your school?" Quatre blushed furiously at this, but pressed on, "We are soldiers, and, though we will do our best to suppress our instincts, we are dangerous."

"That's an excellent question, and one I hope to be able to answer. You see, this is not a normal public high school. We have a government grant. As well as providing an education, one of our goals is to provide adequate care and help for the troubled youth of the war."

"Wait a second!" Duo yelled angrily, "Are you implying that we are mentally deficient or something? Is this some kind of mental hospital? I refuse to stay here a moment longer!"

The principal stared back at the fuming Duo calmly.

"No, I am not implying that you are mentally deficient at all, I am merely stating the fact that you are a troubled youth who has been affected by the war. I know that none of you feel much like the teenagers you are, but that's why you are here. Every person here is here for the purpose of rebuilding their own lives. As to you leaving, from what your commander said, you don't have much of a choice about being here."

He paused a moment to allow this to sink in before beginning again.

"Our school offers a variety of extra-curricular clubs and sports. You will be required to participate in at least one each term. We also strongly encourage advanced academics. In other high schools, students are encouraged to take two electives, one applied skill and one fine art, however, at Saint Christopher's, and one of those two courses will be replaced by group therapy sessions. You will be separated into groups according to your war time experiences. You will also be required to see a counselor at least once a week for one on one therapy. We have students who have experiences all types of traumas, from orphaned children, to child soldiers, like yourselves. As you have already pointed out, having all these kids here in one place is quite a security risk, therefore, our security system is diverse. There are surveillance cameras in every room," here he glared impressively, "any attempt to dislodge them will be immediately and severely punished. We also have a small team of medical staff and not so few security guards. They are dressed down so you may not spot them easily, but they are there. Are there any questions, gentlemen?

He was met with shocked silence from all of them.

"Excellent. I'm sure you are tired from the journey here. I will have someone escort you to your rooms. Normally, we only allow four to a room, but given your circumstances, we have made an exception. You will be rooming together. Dinner is at 5:00 sharp and an older student will be sent to guide you to the cafeteria. Tomorrow, you will be called back here at 8:00 to choose your elective class and receive your timetables. Good day, gentlemen."

With that, he pushed a buzzer and a young secretary appeared at the door.

"Rosella, please escort these boys to room 217 in the upper C-wing of the school."

The girl nodded, and beckoned at the boys to follow her.


	4. Tango in G major

**Chapter 4: Tango in G Major**

Rosella's high heels clanked on the hard flooring as she marched at a swift pace down the corridor. They took 3 flights of stairs up to the dorm rooms, passing dazed looking students along the way. Once on the 3rd floor, Rosella guided them to the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a room with a big sign proclaiming "#214." She fished a key out from in her left jeans pocket and unlocked the door. It swung open with a creaking sound.

The room was dark with only a small window, directly across from the door. Rosella flipped a switch by the door and suddenly the room was illuminated. On either side of the room were bunk beds. They were about 6 feet high and were covered with green bedding.

"Here's where you'll be sleeping and basically living when you're not in classes or therapy. The bathroom's on your left as you come in, and there is a big table at the far end of the room where you can all work. Are there any questions before I leave you boys to get settled in for the night?"

"Yes," Wufei spoke up, "There are only four beds in here. As you can see, there are five of us. Would it be possible to get some more bedding in here?"

"Oh! Yes, well, as I'm sure the principal mentioned to you, there are normally only 4 boys to a room. I'll see what I can do, but for now you'll just have to share. Anything else?"

"Ms. Rosella, ma'am," Quatre broke in tentatively, "Are there any rules?"

Rosella slapped herself on the forehead in frustration.

"Of course! I almost forgot! Curfew is 10:00, meaning you must be in your room preparing for bed by that time. Lights out is at 11:00. Beyond that, you can pretty much do what you like, although to go into town, you must see the receptionist and obtain a special permit by stating where you are going, why, and approximately what time you plan to be back. When you come back, just sign in with the receptionist, and you're free to do as you like. You can visit others in their rooms just as long as you are not there past curfew. Boys may enter girls' rooms, but they have to be out of there by 9:00, not 10:00. Have I forgotten anything?"

The gundam pilots stood in silence.

"Oh, yes." At this her face turned severe. "You would do well to keep in mind that this is a school for troubled youth. We do not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards each other here. Any sign that you are not behaving properly towards others is taken very seriously indeed and punishments are severe. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am!" They replied in unison.

"Good. Dinner is in the mess hall at 6 o'clock sharp. I expect to see you there."

With that she turned on her heel and left without another word.

"Uh, guys," said Duo, "do any of you know where the mess hall is?" The others shook their heads.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Trowa in a low voice, and the others nodded their agreement.

"Guys, I don't know about this." Heero sounded very uncertain. "group therapy, troubled youth, academics, and extra curriculars? This isn't any ordinary mission."

Trowa turned to look at him, "Why don't we unpack our things and have a group discussion about what we know so far, and how best to go about fitting in with the other kids. We have to help each other, otherwise we'll all fall apart."

"Good idea Trowa," Quatre nodded seriously, as he went over to the corner where all their bags had been dropped. He picked up a black duffel bag. "Heero, this one's yours," he said tossing it over to Heero who was already sitting on the bottom bunk on the left side of the room.

When all the bags had been distributed and all five pilots sat on their respective bunks unpacking, (Quatre and Trowa had drawn short straws and were sharing the bottom bunk on the right side, with Wufei on the top) it was Duo who started off the discussion:

"Guys," he said softly, "I've never been to school before, and I just _know_ I'm not going to like this therapy thing."

"It's ok, Duo, I think all of us can admit to being a little afraid of school. It's definitely going to be a new experience for us. I for one, I am very unsure of what to expect." Quatre ended with a little sigh, his shoulders drooping and his brow creasing with worry. Trowa put his arm around Quatre's thin shoulders in a comforting squeeze, and Quatre leaned into the hug slightly. They were shocked out of this position and silence when Wufei's head suddenly appeared inches from theirs as he dangled, upside down off the top bunk.

"I have always loved academics, and am greatly looking forward to the scholarly part of this school, however, I am troubled by the notion that the Commander put us in here to learn how to be human."

"I don't think that's exactly what Une meant, Wufei," said Duo in a contemplative tone, "I think what she meant was that we need to learn how to be more like kids our own age. We need to learn how to relax and have some fun, or at least become a little more personable."

"That's right Duo," Quatre agreed. "I know it's going to be difficult, and it may involve dealing with painful memories, but I think we can do it and I'm willing to give it my best shot!"

There were some general murmurs of ascent, and then Heero grunted,

"What time is it?"

"Exactly 15:00 hours," replied Wufei in a cool tone.

"Hn, that means we have 3 hours before our presence is required at dinner. Shall we go and explore the layout of the school?"

"Probably," was the quick reply.

Nodding, Heero got up and stretched. The boys headed for the door, Wufei pocketing the key. Leaving the room, the boys were immediately lured to the gym by the sound of pounding feet, bouncing balls, and sharp catcalls. As they entered the gym, Heero was jostled by a tall, sweating boy of about 6 feet. His muscles bulged threateningly as he held a basketball tightly to him.

"Hey, watch it you klutz!" the brown haired boy yelled at Heero.

Heero's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh hoh!" the big boy gestured over at some of his friends, "Newbie over here is giving me "a look". How about we settle this with a little.." there was a pause as the boy took a moment to press his face close up to Heero's, "one on one."

Heero smirked, knowing he had a huge advantage in strength and agility over the boy, whose ego was even bigger than his left bicep.

"Sure," he agreed.

"Alright! He wants to challenge me boys, did you see that?" His friends let out a few obligatory chuckles on his behalf. "What's your name?"

"Heero."

"Okay, Heeeerrrrooo, I'm Henry" he said, grotesquely mispronouncing Heero's name, "let's go settle us a game or two. First one to 10 points wins."

A mild anger, flanked by determination flared up in Heero, a kind that he had only felt before in training when he wanted to prove something to Dr. J. This poor sod was going down.

The rest of the gundam pilots hid their smirks as they went to sit down with the rest of the crowd and pretended to be worried for Heero. It was over within less than a minute. Heero was all over the court, dodging Henry's comparatively clumsy advances with unrivaled agility. He swished 5 shots in like they were nothing. Then he stood there on the court, smirking and running a hand through his hair. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

Slowly, a murmur spread through the crowd, asking who this guy was and how he had defeated their star player so easily.

"C'mon guys, they've seen all they need to see." Heero gestured to the others, and they left Henry and the crowd gaping like fish.

After two more hours of wandering the halls, they had located the library on the second floor, and the mess hall at the other end of it. They had discovered that all class rooms were on the first floor, while the administrative offices and nurse's station were on the second. They were just headed toward the mess hall for dinner, when a man tapped Wufei on the back. Soldier instincts in place, he whirled around and slammed the man into the wall, holding him by his collar. As his pupils gradually went back to their normal size, a look of horror spread across his face at what he had just done.

"Sorry sir, I didn't know sir, I can't believe I did that..."

Winded and dusting himself off, the man interrupted Wufei's incoherent apologies.

"That's quite alright, young man," he wheezed, "I'm a counselor here, and I should have known not to sneak up on a student like that. Now, I understand that you are the new students."

"Yes," was the general murmur of the boys.

"Hmmm…" he muttered, "Gundam pilots, eh? Very interesting." This did not seem to require a response, and so none was given.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you 5 soon. Have a nice day." And with that he continued down the corridor.

"Strange guy," said Duo.

"Strange place," contributed Heero.

Dinner, though it consisted of a gob of muck that was barely identifiable as meatloaf, passed uneventfully, as the five were used to such food (the preventer's meatloaf being second to none in the universe in its vileness) and the five were soon off to their rooms.

Entering almost soundlessly, they began undressing, in a wordless agreement on an early night. As they climbed into bed, Heero's voice was heard saying gruffly,

"This alarm goes off at precisely 0600 hours tomorrow."

There were grunts of approval and some uncomfortable shifting from Quatre and Trowa's bed before the lights were turned out. Just as everybody was falling asleep, an indignant cry resonated from the bottom right bunk:

"Trowa! that's my _foot_!


	5. A Midnight Ballet

**Chapter 5: A Midnight Ballet**

As the beeping of Heero's watch got progressively louder, a by now perfunctory groan of dismay resounded from the top left bunk. Duo rubbed at his eyes blearily. This was mostly for show, he had been awake the instant the alarm had begun ringing. They all had, but Duo was so used to providing the entertainment for his depressed comrades that his habitual façade of sleepiness had become part of his early morning routine. He glanced around. Quatre and Trowa were already out of bed and getting dressed, both more than happy to get out of their uncomfortable positions. Heero was methodically pulling on his green tank top, and reaching for his jeans which he quickly pulled over his checked boxers. It had gotten cold in the room overnight. Perhaps the heating was shut off. The sound of a shower turning on shocked him out of his musings, however, and he turned to the immaculately made top bunk where Wufei had been sleeping only moments ago.

"I call showering next," Trowa called softly.

By the time the five of them had showered and dressed, it was exactly 6:35, according to Quatre's watch. Breakfast wasn't until 7 o'clock, so the five boys sat down on their beds. Heero got his laptop out from under his bed and began typing furiously.

"What are you doing, Heero?" Duo asked in bewilderment.

"Mission log." Heero grunted under his breath.

Quatre didn't voice what he was thinking: that this was the one type of mission in which a log was not necessary. Preventer Une would be able to tell whether they had made progress just by watching them. But they all had different coping mechanisms, and if Heero's involved the methodical routine of a mission, who was he to strip away the illusion of control? Quatre allowed himself to slip away from the others, falling deep into thought. How were they going to deal with normal life? Wufei had already scared some kid on their way into the school. More importantly, at least to Quatre, that kid had scared Wufei with the loss of his tight personal control he had experienced when confronted with a kid almost his own age. Heero and Wufei were quite similar in that way. Control was very important to both of them. However, they both coveted different types of control. Wufei was all about self-control and suppressing his emotions, whereas Heero just wished he could find his emotions. It wasn't that Heero didn't have emotions, he just didn't know how to recognize them and deal with them. Quatre knew that first hand. He was, after all, an empath. Heero liked to have careful and methodical control over his surroundings, his behaviour bordering on obsessive when confronted with new situations. Quatre sat there for another 20 minutes, lost in his own thoughts.

0800 hours found the gundam pilots dressed, fed, and standing outside the principal's office, waiting to be let in. They were all wearing jeans, although Wufei's and Quatre's were slightly more formal than the other boys', as they were of a dark blue hue. Wufei wore a black tank top, Duo his regular priest-collared shirt and cross, Quatre a pale yellow t-shirt, Trowa his green turtle neck, and Heero his much loved green tank top. Wufei made an impatient sound and checked his watch. It was already 8:05 and there was no sign of life in the principal's office. Suddenly heavy footfall's and the jingle of keys could be heard, as the principal rounded the corner, sprinting, and trying to find the right key.

"Sorry about that, boys, there was a medical emergency in one of the younger grades."

He opened the door and held it open, gesturing at the boys to enter. They did, and were seated in five chairs in front of the principal's desk.

"My name, as I hope you gentlemen already know, is Mr. Leung."

None of them saw fit to inform him that they hadn't, in fact, been aware of that

. "Now, as you definitely _do_ already know, you are here to choose an elective course and an extra curricular activity. Have any of you given that any serious thought?"

"I should like to take band as an elective course," Trowa stated a little hesitantly.

"Good choice!" Mr Leung said emphatically, "What instrument do you play?"

"The flute."

"Hmmm…" Mr. Leung had turned to his computer and was in the process of locating Trowa's file, "At what level do you play?"

Trowa shrugged.

Heero, who had done research on the courses offered at this school and had also heard Trowa play on many occasions interceded, "Put him in the senior band."

"Right you are. And what extra-curricular activity would you like to be involved in? We have a variety of sports teams including basket-ball, baseball, soccer, hockey, gymnastics, and dance. We also have quite a developed drama and musical theatre club. You don't have to have much experience to join any of these activities. Does anything interest you?"

"I have some experience in acrobatics. Maybe I could do gymnastics?"

"Excellent choice. Who's next?"

Quatre also chose senior band and gymnastics as his elective and extra curricular activity. Duo and Heero both chose physical education as their elective courses, but refrained from choosing an extra-curricular activity right away, electing to think about it for a little longer. Wufei chose drawing and painting as his elective course and fencing to be his extra curricular activity. After that, they chose their academic courses. With that out of the way, their timetables were printed, and they were told to wait in the office while Mr. Leung found a student of their age to help them find their classes for the day.

After Mr. Leung left, the gundam team compared time tables. This is how they looked:

Heero's time table:

Day 1: Advanced Physics 11- 8:30-10:00

English 11- 10:15-11:45

Lunch

Advanced Japanese 11- 12:45- 2:15

Math 11- 2:30- 4:00

Day 2: Physical Education

Chemistry 11

lunch

Group Therapy

Free Period

Heero Yuy will be attending a weekly individual therapy session with Dr. Gus Johnson on Friday afternoons at 4: 00 pm.

Duo's time table:

Day 1: Advanced physics 11

English 11

Lunch

Spanish 11

Math 11

Day 2: Physical Education

Chemistry 11

Lunch

Group Therapy

Free period

Duo Maxwell will be attending a weekly individual therapy session with Dr. Gus Johnson on Monday afternoons at 4:00 pm.

Trowa's time table:

Day 1: Chemistry 11

English 11

Lunch

Advanced French 11

Math 11

Day 2: Senior Band

Biology 11

Group Therapy

Free period

Trowa Barton will be attending weekly individual therapy session with Dr. Gus Johnson on Wednesday afternoons at 4:00 pm.

Quatre's time table

Day 1: Chemistry 11

English 11

Lunch

Advanced Arabic 11

Math 11

Day 2: Senior Band

Biology 11

Group Therapy

Free period

Quatre Winner will be attending an individual therapy session with Dr. Gus Johnson on Thursday afternoons at 4:00 pm.

Wufei's time table

Day 1: Advanced Physics 11

English 11

Lunch

Advanced Mandarin 11 (by correspondence)

Math 11

Day 2: Drawing and Painting

Biology 11

Group Therapy

Free period

Wufei Chang will be attending an individual therapy session with Dr. Gus Johnson on Tuesday afternoons at 4:00 pm.

"Hey Heero!"

"Yes, Duo?"

"We have almost all our classes together!'

Heero groaned playfully and Duo slapped him upside the head. At that moment the door swung once again open and in stepped a shy looking boy. He was about their age with dark brown hair and glasses.

"My name is Joshua. Mr Leung told me to show you to your first classes," he said so quietly and shyly that he was hard to hear.

The others nodded and got up. Quatre fell into his usual role and spoke for the group.

"Heero, Duo, and Wufei have advanced physics first, and Trowa and I have Chemistry."

"Ok, if you'll come with me advanced physics is just down the hall."

They followed him past a few doors and came to a stop in front of a small classroom marked 107.

"This is Mr. Hagi's class. It has already started because you are a bit late from the meeting with Mr. Leung."

This was said so quietly that Duo felt compelled to say in a gentle tone:

"Do you think you could speak up a bit more, we're having a hard time hearing you, buddy."

The kid sighed as though he was asked this question often. "I'm sorry, I can't. My vocal cords were damaged during the war. It's a long story, but something exploded and fell on my throat. I'm trying my best."

"Oh, sorry," Duo apologized awkwardly.

"That's okay, I get it a lot from other people." Joshua's eyes were downcast, and his hands were shaking slightly. Obviously, it wasn't a good memory.

"I guess we should go in," Wufei said hesitantly, as though he was not relishing the prospect.

"Yeah," said Heero, but nobody made a move to go in.

"Guys," Duo's voice was shaking softly, "I really, really don't want to go in."

Quatre put his hand on Duo's shoulder as a reassurance, "I'm sure it won't be _that_ bad." But the reassurance was hollow, coming from someone who was experiencing genuine fear himself.

It was Wufei who finally rallied the other two. "We're not going to fit in here. You're right, Duo, and in fact we probably shouldn't be here, but a mission is a mission and we're going in, even if we'd rather face any number of enemy troops than go into that classroom." He had, unfortunately, forgotten about Joshua, who was looking bewildered.

"It's just a classroom," he said calmly, and opened the door.

The whole class of kids twisted around in their seats to look at the newcomers.

"Mr. Hagi, these are the three new students in your class."

"Oh, good. Would you like to introduce yourselves?" The three boys looked at each other and then in silent agreement, stepped forward one by one.

"Heero Yuy."

"Chang Wufei."

"Duo Maxwell."

Even Duo was too nervous to make his usual entrance.

The only empty seats were scattered over the classroom. Wufei took his place in the front, Duo in the middle, and Heero in the back. With one last miserable look at their friends, Quatre and Trowa were ushered out of the room by Joshua.

Joshua, whose voice was giving out so much that the two remaining pilots had to lean forward to hear him, told them that the Chemistry room was nearby, and they followed him to the door.

"Will you be alright from here?" he asked.

"Yes," Trowa said, and politely thanked him for his assistance.

Joshua looked sheepish, "I'd help introduce you too, but you see, I'm missing math, and I'm not terribly good at it."

"That's fine," Quatre replied.

"Good, then I'll see you in an hour and a half. I'll help you find your next class."

He left then, running down the hall and up the stairs. Quatre and Trowa stood staring at the classroom door for quite a while, before Trowa caught Quatre's gaze, held it, and said,

"Shall we go in?"

"Hmmm…" Quatre responded, not at all sounding his articulate self, "yes I suppose we must."

They took a deep breath together, and Trowa squeezed Quatre's shoulder, in a show of affection, as if he was in the habit of doing before entering a potentially dangerous situation. He realized that while they weren't technically in any danger, this was the most nervous he had felt before any mission or test. This was the ultimate test. Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner were about to tested in the subject of humanity and neither was sure of his mark. He grasped the door handle, and turned.


	6. Minuet in B Minor

**Chapter 6: Minuet in B Minor**

**Trowa**

As they stepped into the room, the bright light of the lab glared in the two boys' eyes. They blinked in surprise, much like newborns entering a new world for the first time. They stood there for a while, taking in the new atmosphere and looking at the rows of desks and students, arranged meticulously, obviously with the idea of bringing order to the 30 odd teenagers in the room. Yet the staff's efforts had failed miserably. Some of the students were dressed sloppily, displaying frayed jeans and old t-shirts. All save a few in the front looked half-asleep. However, as the class slowly realized that two newcomers were standing awkwardly in the front of the classroom, they started to look more alive. Whispers began to punctuate the previously undisturbed silence. The teacher droned on, oblivious. I decided I had to take action soon.

"Excuse me, Mr…."

I realized belatedly that I didn't remember or even know my teacher's name. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. He was an ancient man of short stature. He cleared his throat gently, and then pronounced delightedly,

"Oh! Are you the new students then?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Well, then, let's have them!"

I was bewildered.

"Have what sir?"

He glanced at me disappointedly, as though I had failed to pick up on something fairly obvious and he was no longer sure about me.

"Well, your names, of course!"

"Oh…"

Suddenly, I felt panic-stricken. I didn't have a real name! Should I give him my alias? Only a few people in the world knew it was an alias. What if he discovered me? Fortunately, Quatre picked up on my distress, though it must have been difficult, since my features were schooled into a gentle frown. He broke in:

"This is Trowa Barton, and my name is Quatre Raberba. We are pleased to meet you all."

'Oh, thank God for Quatre,' I thought. I quickly reassured myself. He would not discover me for a fake, and even if he did, I had earned the name Trowa Barton. My closest friends knew me as Trowa. I had fought as Trowa Barton, effectively taking his place in history. The name was as much mine as it had been the original Trowa's.

"Very good!" exclaimed the enthusiastic little man. "I'm Mr. Jenkins. You may take your seats."

He gestured at two empty seats. One was in the middle, one in the back. Quatre, decisive as he was, took the middle one, leaving me with the back row. That suited me just fine. I didn't particularly like to be noticed. I sat down and took out one of the school-issued notebooks Mr. Leung had provided us with. I began to take notes.

**Quatre**

I had noticed Trowa's attack of anxiety and quickly stepped in to fill my usual role of Gundam Team spokesman. I chuckled quietly at the thought, but that really was what I was. I had to suppress a wince as I introduced myself. It hadn't really yet hit home that I was no longer Quatre Winner; that even my name had been taken away in disownment. But I supressed that train of thought quickly, mental discipline being one of my strengths. I couldn't afford to think about that now. I sat down to listen to the lecture, wondering absently why the students had seemed so bored when we came in. Mr. Jenkins seemed like a lovely man, really. The reason for the students' vacant stares became apparent almost immediately. Mr. Jenkins, while a delightful old man, was possessed of one of the qualities perhaps most disconcerting in a teacher: an utter dispassion for his subject. His voice, so enthusiastic and welcoming only moments before, dropped to a low drone as he returned to the subject at hand. It was hard even for Quatre, who had listened to many a political speech in his day, and was well practiced in the art of looking focused when actually bored out of his mind, to look as though he was paying attention. It didn't matter anyway. The doctors had made sure the pilots had a solid base in all sciences. This class was going to be very easy.

Later that day, the pilots exited English feeling fairly relieved. It looked like they would all be able to handle this school thing. With the exception of Quatre and Wufei, who had had tutoring all their lives, the gundam pilots could see that English was going to be one of their most troubling subjects. It was taught by an upright, conservative, middle-aged woman with a prim expression and whose half-moon glasses were her most distinctive feature. She was the type of teacher that normal students would describe as being strict, but the pilots viewed her as a fair, and in Wufei's case, honourable woman who was out to teach the students as best as she could.

"Wheew!" eclaimed Duo as he plopped down on one of the only free benches in the long rows of tables at the cafeteria. "I think I'm going to dread advanced physics!"

Advanced physics was taught by a bear of a man, Mr. Hagi, with whom Duo was already in trouble for his refusal to comply with the man's insistence that he cut his hair according to the school's dress code. He was trying to make light of it, but the strain of having to defend his braid in public showed on his face just the same. Too many bad memories had been brought back for him that morning. The pilots ate their nameless mush in uncomplaining, companionable silence. Howard's food on the peace million had been about a thousand times worse.

The silence was interrupted however, when Joshua approached from behind, accompanied by another boy of diminutive stature. When he spoke, though it was soft, it made Duo, who had been absorbed in his angry thoughts about how he had to keep his braid, jump and turn around, fists raised, ready to render a crushing blow upon an unfortunate person.

Joshua's companion started violently, whimpering slightly with fright.

"Whoa, man, sorry, I didn't know it was you." Duo's reply was laden with regret, now that he had seen the effect he was having on the vulnerable looking boy at Joshua's side. Joshua wrapped a steadying arm around his friend's shoulders. He seemed used to weird reactions, after all, they were in a school for the traumatized.

"It's okay, Robbie. These guys are nice, he just made a mistake." Robbie nodded slowly in acknowledgment, a slow smile spreading across his face in greeting.

"Duo, you let your guard down," Heero admonished quietly, "You shouldn't have been startled."

Duo nodded.

"I know."

And that was the end of it.

Unfazed by this outlandish behaviour, Joshua told Duo to budge up and took a seat, with Robbie sitting next to him.

"This is my best friend, Robbie."

"Hn," said Heero sociably, unable to think of anything to say at this pronouncement.

"Hi! Nice to meet'cha!" said Duo, injecting enough friendliness into his voice to cover for Heero, who was often lost in social situations.

Trowa nodded, smiling strainedly, as though the expression was foreign on his face. (Which it was).

Wufei responded with a polite "Hello," with a slight incline to his head.

Quatre resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friends behaviour. "Hello, I'm Quatre, this is Trowa, Duo, Wufei, and Heero." He pointed to each of his friends in turn.

"How were you guys' first classes?" enquired Joshua.

Refastening his mask, Duo took his place as the joker of the group, and launched into a long and humourous account of their advanced physics class, during which he had antagonized the teacher. Then Robbie spoke for the first time.

"I wouldn't get on Mr. Hagi's bad side. He's a pretty scary guy when he gets mad."

Duo blinked and recalled that the man _had _lost control of his temper and yelled at him, about 6 inches away from his face, that he would cut that damn hair of his and soon, and in the mean time he would stop this impertinence right now! Duo had been showered with spit, but he had been utterly unimpressed, and not intimidated at all. He winked at Robbie, and said,

"Thanks for the advise, man, but I think I can handle the overgrown bat."

Duo looked sadly at the boy, who all but flinched when he referred to the man so disrespectfully. The poor kid had to have been through something awful to be that afraid of people. In fact, he almost reminded him of some of the younger kids from the Maxwell Church. Not from his street gang, of course. Anyone on the street had to be hard as nails by age 6 or they would be dead within a week…The bell's insistent ring interrupted Duo's train of thought, which was just as well, considering how depressed he was becoming. The little group split up, everyone going to their respective language classes.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, too quickly for Duo, who definitely was not looking forward to his individual therapy session at 4:00. 'Dr. Gus Johnson! Who names their kid Gus Johnson?' Bemoaning Dr. Johnson's name was not going to make time pass any less quickly, however, and after a good luck hug from Quatre, and an encouraging smile from Heero, he was off to therapy. On his way, he thought to himself.

'Well, I never thought I'd live long enough to need or even get therapy, so I'll consider myself lucky.' Even so, as he trod through the halls slowly as he could toward the door that bore the proud lettering "DR. GUS JOHNSON" in block letters, he struggled with the familiar feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Dr. Gus Johnson sat at his desk, mulling over this next student's file. Duo Maxwell, it said. The only information about his past that was provided was the fact that he had been a gundam pilot. Even so, with that little amount of information, he could tell that this Duo would be a tough patient to deal with. This would be no ordinary grief counseling, that was for sure. He had dealt with under-aged soldiers before, but not with anybody who had been so closely involved in the war effort. Well, he thought to himself wryly, I have five of them this time, I'd better get to work. So when he heard the tentative knocking on his door, and saw the slim silhouette of Duo Maxwell, Gundam Pilot, standing outside his door, he steeled himself. 'Okay, Gus,' he said to himself, 'treat him just as you would any other student. He won't like special treatment.' And as he uttered the words that were to be the beginning of it all, he felt a strange calm envelope him.

"Come in."


	7. Allemande in B Major

**Chapter 7: Allemande in B Major**

As Duo stepped into Dr. Gus Johnson's office, he was surprised to see that the man was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk. He was chewing a pencil, and looked entirely relaxed. Upon seeing this, almost immediately he felt most of the nervous tension go out of his body. He was going to be able to handle this.

Dr. Gus Johnson's POV

The kid, Duo Maxwell, the file said, visibly relaxed on entering my office and seeing my casual disposition. Over the years, I have discovered that the casual approach works best, especially with the more timid of the kids I work with. That suits me fine, I was never one for formalities. I prefer blue jeans to dress pants. I was shaken out of my musings when the kid said something:

"You must be Dr. Johnson, then."

"Oh, please," I responded quickly, "call me Dr. Gus, my last name is far too generic, and I hope that eventually we can become good friends."

"Right."

The kid, no, Duo, I chastised myself, didn't look at all convinced. That was alright. Most of my patients don't open up right away. If they did, they wouldn't have needed my services. I began my usual introductory session.

"So, Duo, it looks as though we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other, so we might as well get to know each other. Is there anything you would like to say to me?"

"Yes, Dr Gus: I don't think I need your help."

At this he sat down and swung his legs up, so that they were stretched out in front of him on the couch.

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but I've been coping on my own since before I can remember. I don't need anyone other than myself and the others."

Duo looked completely at home on the couch in front of my desk. He was a character all right. A silly grin was pasted on his face. To anyone else, he would have looked like a perfectly normal, if somewhat saucy teenager, but my experienced eyes picked up something else. There was a kid behind that grin. A kid who was scared and vulnerable behind those strong shields. I had seen plenty of war traumatized people in my day, but I could immediately tell that Duo was going to pose a challenge. There was something just a bit off in the way he carried himself. His movements looked normal, but I thought I could detect a hint of a practiced front in the way that his grin didn't quite reach to his eyes, and the way his gaze bored into me like a laser, as though he was looking into my very soul.

"Since you feel that way, Duo, you won't mind me doing this."

With that, I got out of my leather seat and swung my way over to the red armchair diagonally across from the yellow couch where Duo was sitting. The colours of the furniture didn't match, but that was okay with me. The colours of my personality and those of my patients didn't necessarily go together either. It was a sort of beautiful chaos.

"I'm not going to be all clinical with you."

He smiled here, and laughter lines showed on his face.

"You're not a mental case, and I promise I won't treat you like one. These sessions will be one on one, man to man if you like. I expect you to talk to me, but you don't have to if you don't want to. In fact, you could sit here in silence for the whole hour and nobody on the outside would be the wiser. What is said in here stays in here."

Duo was blown away by this speech. He hadn't really expected Dr. Gus to be so down to earth. He let the Cheshire grin drop and he looked seriously at Dr. Gus for the first time.

"Sounds good to me."

Dr. Gus sat there for a few moments in contemplation. Should he make the first move, or should he wait for Duo to say something. This might sound silly, but he felt like he was writing some kind of test. If he made the wrong move now, he might lose Duo. He made a decision.

"I hate to bring this up so soon, but there has already been a complaint about your behaviour today in class. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes." Duo's tone had hardened and he was looking at Dr. Gus with smouldering eyes, just daring him to say the wrong thing.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Duo stretched languidly on the couch. "Not really, Doc."

"Alright then, like I said, you don't have to, but if you don't provide me with some kind of reason why you should be an exception to the dress code, I'm afraid you might have to comply. I'm only fighting for your best interests, Duo."

"You're blackmailing me!"

"No," I said mildly, not sounding in the least concerned about this outburst, "I'm just stating a fact."

"Look, no one touches my hair," he said in a threatening tone. But I detected a note of panic in his voice, a note that he was trying in vain to cover with anger and threats. It was very hard to pick out, though, and I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not. This boy was as tough as nails. It looked as though I might be getting somewhere, however, and I instinctively knew that Duo's hair would be instrumental in unlocking the secrets of his identity, who he was, and what made him tick.

Smoothly, I responded, "Then you won't mind giving me a solid reason why nobody should touch that mane of yours, to keep it safe from wandering scissors."

Duo expelled a long breath "Look," he said, the look in his eyes changing from alarmed to impassive, "my hair is important to me. I don't understand why that's not good enough for you."

I was an experienced psychologist, and I had learned to see when my patients had reached their limits for the day. Duo had. I wouldn't get anything more from him today. To try would be most unwise judging by the menacing way he was looking at me.

"I'll tell you what, Duo. For now, I'm going to tell the admin to make an exception in the dress code for your hair. This isn't, however, by any means over. Next week we will talk about this some more, and you will eventually tell me why your hair is so important to you. Your braid is safe. For now."

There was a kind of light in Dr. Gus' eyes that Duo had never seen before, and he knew, just as Dr. Gus had known about him, that he would not get a better offer that day. He nodded, stood up, and made for the door, measuring every step. Dr. Gus would see no signs of weakness from him. As he grasped the door handle with no small measure of relief, he heard Dr. Gus saying,

"Have a good week." He was smiling slightly, and Duo couldn't help but smile back. The man was certainly likeable, but Duo sensed that he was no pushover. This was going to be very difficult indeed.

Duo took the long way back, electing to go through the library to get to the room he shared with the others. He had always liked libraries. The smell of old books was comforting to him.

Upon entering the room he shared with his friends, he took off his backpack on slung it down onto the floor. As he looked up at his friends, though they tried their level best to hide it, it was painfully obvious that they had been waiting anxiously for his return, just as they would have been if he had been on a dangerous mission. He broke into a smile.

"Nice try guys, but I know you were worried about me."

"Of course we weren't, Duo."

"Wufei, Duo said gently, that book you're so intent on reading is upside down. On top of that, Heero is staring blankly at his lap top, and is not typing, Quatre was visibly pacing, and nothing is written in the notebook in front of Trowa."

"How was it?" Quatre broke in.

"It was alright. I got some more flack about my braid, that's all, but Dr. Gus is an alright kind of guy."

The tension in the room slowly dissipated with that, and Duo walked over to Heero. "Heero, buddy, I think we have a date with Mr. Leung in approximately 30 seconds to clear up our extra-curricular activity choices."

Heero rose quickly in alarm. Forgetting this kind of thing was not like him at all, though he had been quite worried about Duo. The two took off at a jog, Duo calling behind them,

"See you in a few, guys!"

After the meeting with Mr. Leung, the two boys walked back to their room. A few girls waved shyly to Duo, and he waved enthusiastically back. The girls burst into excited giggles, blushing madly and turning away.

"Hn," Heero grunted, "You seem to have made some friends." He deadpanned this whole phrase, but if you knew him well, as Duo did, you could see that his eyes held the barest bit of amusement.

"Aw, them, they're just girls from English."

"I wouldn't let them hear you say that," said a familiar, quiet voice.

"Hey Joshua!" Duo greeted enthusiastically.

"Hi yourself," he responded.

"Where's Robbie?" Heero asked. Joshua's face darkened a bit, but soon returned to normal.

"He's a little sick right now. He's just resting. Do you mind if I visit with you guys for a while?"

"Not at all," responded Duo. "We're just headed back to our room to talk to the other guys. Do you want to come?"

"Sure. So, where did you guys just come from?"

We just came from choosing our extra-curricular activities. We're also bringing back the schedule of practices for the other guys.

"Oh yeah? What sports are you doing?"

"I'm doing hockey." There was a long, pregnant silence until Heero realized that he was expected to respond as well.

"I'm doing soccer."

"Really?" Joshua questioned, "Everyone was so sure you'd do basketball, especially after that incident with Henry."

"Everyone?" Heero was slightly disconcerted. "They know who I am?"

"You bet! You're something of a hero to the younger grades. Henry is a big bully."

Heero wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed that he was being noticed in such a way.

"Yeah, well, I wanted a challenge. If Henry is your star player, I wouldn't have been able to improve. I've never done soccer before. It will be beneficial for me."

"Sheesh, Heero!" Duo was scandalized, "Lose the language! What Heero means, Joshua, is that soccer would be more fun for him, and he would be able to kick some butt against other people's expectations."

Heero cracked a faint smile at his friend's antics. "Couldn't have put it better myself, Duo."

They went back to their room, chatting amiably. When they opened the door, they found the other three pilots sprawled across Wufei's bunk, Quatre and Trowa in an unspoken agreement that they didn't want to be anywhere near their hell bunk until they absolutely had to be, looking at their English homework.

"Hey, guys. Hi Joshua." Quatre greeted warmly.

"What activities did you get?" asked Wufei.

"First things first!" Duo chirped happily. "Quatre, Trowa, you have gymnastics Monday and Wednesday starting this Wednesday from 8:00 to 10:00 at night. Whew! That's cutting it a little close to curfew, don't you think? Wufei, fencing is also twice a week from 8:00 to 10:00, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Heero, soccer is at the same times on Wednesday and Friday, and for me, hockey is on Thursday and… what? This must be wrong. It can't be. Not… Saturday morning at 8:00 am! Are they cruel on purpose?"

The next morning, everything rolled on in strict military fashion until it came time for showers. Heero had just shut the door to the bathroom when suddenly a loud thud was heard, followed by a crack and a little groan. When he came out, the other pilots were clustered worriedly around the door. Heero was seething. There was a large gash on the back of his head where it had connected firmly with the shower wall.

"Who. The hell. Dropped. This. Bar. Of. Soap?" This was said slowly and deliberately, with emphasis on every word. As he did he held the bar of soap up for everyone to see. Needless to say, no confessions were forthcoming, but Duo's eye twitched involuntarily.

"I'm going to kill you, Duo!"

"Eep!" Duo yelped in a very undignified way, and took off into the hallway. Unfortunately, Heero was expecting this and had caught him within moments. They rolled around on the ground punching and kicking each other playfully. Kids began to come out of their rooms to watch, and, unfortunately for Heero and Duo, it looked to the untrained eye as though Heero really was going to murder Duo. The administration was quickly called in.

Mr. Leung strode purposefully through the corridor. Honestly! One would think that gundam pilots would be a little more mature about resolving personal issues. And the security guards! Imagine a security guard being too scared to break up a fight between teenagers. He sped up his pace when he heard Duo's plaintive cries.

"Get off me, Heero! Heero, Heero please!"

But as Mr. Leung drew closer to the scene, he realized exactly what the pained cries were. Giggling!

"Mercy, Heero. I beg of you!"

"A gundam pilot shows no mercy Maxwell! You know that!" With that Heero stopped tickling Duo and sat resolutely on his chest. Slowly, the two of them became aware of a looming presence behind them. They turned around, once again on guard. Mr. Leung was tapping his foot furiously, his arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

"Uh oh," said Duo quietly.

"I can't believe it! You got detention on the second day of school for play fighting in the halls!" Wufei was fuming. "How juvenile." They were walking to their first classes of the day.

Electives passed smoothly, and 10:30 found Quatre and Trowa hurrying on their way to biology, for which they were late. As they entered the room, they became aware that something was not quite right. Looking around, Trowa found himself horrified to see that all students were all crouched down over small forms on their desks. A pungent odor punctuated the room, and it was only through his soldier's training that he was able to contain his disgust. They were dissecting fetal pig! He looked over at Quatre, and was surprised to see the same expression of anger of his face that Trowa wanted so badly to express himself.

"Trowa, they died a meaningless death."

As a great animal lover, Trowa too, was filled with indignation at the fact that obviously hundreds of baby pigs were slaughtered every year for the sole purpose of educating high school students about anatomy!


	8. A Jazzy Stroll

**Chapter 8: A Jazzy Stroll**

**This chapter is dedicated to Zakai and Tigger Pooh, who have been very supportive reviewers since the beginning! Thank you!**

Dr. Gus was having a bad day. And I really mean a BAD day. The door to his office slammed as his young charge disappeared from him in a flurry of black and white. Dr. Gus' head pounded with frustration. He'd been quite relaxed after speaking with Duo the day before. It had looked as though dealing with the gundam pilots was going to be a relatively easy job. Wufei had certainly disabused him of _that_ notion. He rubbed his own temples gently, expelling a long sigh.

The session had begun well, or so he'd thought. His young charge had come to him dressed in his traditional apparel; loose white pants and a black tank top. His hard, searching gaze had thrown Dr. Gus off from the start. It was far different from Duo's open, clowning face, though Dr. Gus was well aware that different people dealt with war in different ways. Obviously, Wufei was going to have to be treated with more caution. Wufei had sat down stiffly on the saggy old couch, which was yellowing with age. Wufei's back had been completely straight, despite this, and he leveled Dr. Gus with a polite stare, and Dr. Gus cringed. He hated being formal, though it looked as though a professional demeanor was going to be needed in this case.

He soon found that his first impression had been quite right. He got the feeling, after the first 15 minutes, that if he had not created a very professional rapport with this student, he would have been discounted immediately. That would have been disastrous, because a counselor must have a bond of trust and confidence with his students, or no progress could be made. The first few minutes passed amicably. Dr. Gus introduced himself as Dr. Gus Johnson. He did not give Wufei the option of calling him Dr. Gus, however, as his body language had suggested that he was not ready for that kind of a relationship. He knew immediately that he had made the right decision when he saw a light of approval and even respect in Wufei's eyes. He had congratulated himself for his perception then, but alas, too soon! He made a mistake not 30 minutes into their session. For the last half hour he had been asking Wufei inane questions of no real consequence; how was he liking school? What did he think of his courses? What extra curricular activities had he picked? Why?

He had been receiving as inconsequential responses as his questions. Wufei liked school because he loved learning. He thought most of his courses were too easy for high school students, except for English. He had picked fencing as his sport, because it was fitting for him to do so, coming from a warrior background…

Then Dr. Gus made a _big_ faux pas. He asked an intensely personal question during their first session. It really wasn't Dr. Gus' fault. He had no way of knowing that the ring on Wufei's right hand, embroidered with the dragon and the flower was the last symbol of a marriage once treasured, now lost. So, ignorant as he was, he had gone ahead and asked,

"That's a pretty neat ring? Where did you get it and what does it mean?"

Wufei's face, which had been relaxing its expression somewhat, became tight and drawn. His shoulders returned to their upright position, his back straighter than ever. But the man had asked a question, and Wufei was too honourable to turn his back and walk away. Not without at least giving some kind of truthful answer. There was a long pause. When he spoke, it was softly and slowly,

"It is a symbol of my love for my family. The dragon symbolizes my ancestors, and the flower represents those of my wife, Long Meiran, though all are long gone. All people from my colony wear one."

This was the truth. It was tradition to have one made for the males of the family when they entered into marriage. A duplicate was made for the wife, but Wufei couldn't bring himself to talk about the ring he had buried with his beloved Meiran, in that field of flowers, what seemed a very long time ago.

The war had made a year seem like forever. And yet, he could remember the day like it was yesterday. His brother, Shen-Ling, who had raised him from a very young age, his parents having died young, had told him to find Meiran and save her while he held off the enemy. He had lost both of them that day, returning home from burying his wife, only to find that he had lost his brother too. No burial had been required for Chang Shen-Ling. His remains, scattered by an explosion, would float forever in the endless sea that was space.

Wufei gasped as he was torn from this flashback by Dr. Gus speaking again.

"Wufei? Wufei, are you alright?" Dr. Gus had asked gently.

Suddenly the shields were back up again, the cold glint in Wufei's eyes was replaced, and he said icily,

"Yes, I am well, Dr. Johnson. Might I be allowed to return to my room now?"

Dr. Gus saw that he would be able to pry no more information out of Wufei that day. Indeed, as Dr. Gus looked deeply into Wufei's eyes, he realized that it would take a great deal of hard work on his part to get him to open up again next session. He excused Wufei, and the boy walked straight-backed out of the room.

The rest of the day passed almost normally, though Wufei was considerably more ornery than usual for the rest of the day. Fortunately, fencing practice quickly distracted him from the disastrous session, and he was soon beating everyone on the team with gusto. There was only one person who posed him a problem, and that was a young girl called Sho. She was of light build, but so was Wufei, so he had no advantage there. When Wufei saw her, she reminded him so strikingly of Meiran that he didn't spout his usual speech about how women are weak. He was later glad for this, because she proved quite a challenge. He found himself imagining himself back in the training room on L5, fencing with his wife. He eventually got the better of her, but she lost gracefully, extending her hand to him. This brought Wufei out of his dream world. Meiran would have been angry that she didn't win. He smiled tightly at her and bowed deeply as his instructors back home had taught him long ago. He resolved to stay far away from her in future. He told himself that reminiscing would distract him from his mission.

When he came back to the room he shared with his friends, he immediately headed for the shower. He didn't even bother to grunt a greeting at Quatre when he called to him from his bunk where he had been reading. He immersed himself in cleaning his body thoroughly, allowing no other painful thoughts to enter his head.

Quatre's POV

I knew better than to take offence when Wufei ignored my greeting. Duo had been surly as well after his meeting with Dr. Gus. Hey, if Wufei didn't want to discuss what was bothering him, that was fine with Quatre; he knew he would find out at the end of the week when Heero would predictably insist on a group discussion of their mission.

Just then, Trowa crashed through the door, swearing uncharacteristically.

"What's the matter, Trow?" Trowa groaned slightly, holding his nose. Quatre noticed with alarm that there was blood gushing from it.

"It was my bloody locker! It got wrenched closed and do matter how hard I pulled, I couldn't get it do open!" It was then, in Trowa's frustration, that he made his first and biggest mistake. "So I kicked it, hard, and what do you know? The thing sprung forward and hit be in da dose!" Trowa's hand was still in front of his face, and Quatre couldn't see to inspect the damage.

"So then I reached forward to grab my chemistry book, and I pulled it from the pile." Trowa related the rest of this sorry tale by pointing to a bump on his head. Quatre slowly realized what Trowa was getting at… The pile of books had fallen on his head. Those text books were no joke. Trowa's eyes were narrowed, his lips tightly drawn. He was really in a sorry state!

Unable to contain himself, Quatre let out a few nervous giggles, which grew quickly to nigh on hysterical laughter. It stopped… for the most part, at least, when he was hit squarely in the face with a pillow. Trowa disappeared into the bathroom and did not reappear for some time.

That night, the gundam pilots sat in a circle on Heero's bunk to discuss the day's events. Group therapy had been a little unnerving, but it was led by Dr. Gus, and he had made them feel as comfortable as they could have been, given the circumstances.

After a long silence, during which everyone tried to sort out his thoughts, Heero spoke, the often chosen leader of these discussions.

"What did you all think of group therapy?"

"I was just glad they didn't expect us to talk much," Trowa contributed.

"Yes, well that won't last, will it?" Wufei asked in an annoyed tone. "That was just our introductory session. Soon we will be expected to contribute just like everyone else."

Quatre and Duo were silent. They hadn't thought much of group therapy. There had been about 30 students participating, all had had similar war time experiences. Mostly they were soldiers who had enlisted too young for either side. Some, however, were war orphans, made so by a particularly traumatizing incident. Duo guessed that most of these young people were or had been at one time patients of Dr. Gus. Neither Robbie, nor Joshua had been in their session, so they had huddled together as a group and stayed quiet, listening. Overall, the experience had been neither useless nor helpful. Coming to this conclusion as a group, the gundam team soundlessly began to undress and get ready for bed.

The next night, dinner found Duo with his head buried in Romeo and Juliet, absently spooning some queer substance faintly identifiable as tomato soup into his mouth. The other guys hadn't made it down yet. Wufei had been meditating since school ended, Trowa had been with Dr. Gus, Heero had been shooting hoops down at the court, and heaven only knew where Quatre had been all day! So, as he waited impatiently for his friends at their now habitual meal bench, he found himself chuckling at the melodrama of the play. Compared to what they had all suffered, Juliet's misfortunes seemed trivial to him. Presently, he heard light footfalls and Trowa's quiet chuckling. He looked up to see Quatre and Trowa on their way over with identical trays of unmentionable muck.

"Hiya Trowa! Quatre! Trowa, how was your session with Dr. Gus?"

"It went well enough. We didn't talk much. He didn't pressure me into talking. (Indeed, Dr. Gus had been fearful since the incident that had so upset Wufei, he had told himself that he would let the next one speak for himself. Of course, Trowa didn't.)

Quatre and Trowa entered the gym for the first time with measured steps. They weren't too sure what would be required of them in this new sport. They hadn't been sure of what to wear either, so both were decked out in comfortable shorts and T-shirts. The gym was huge. The ceiling was high, and in the middle of the room was a blue expanse of floor. It appeared to be padded and sprung. Over to the right was the vaulting horse, and to the left were the high bar, pommel horse, rings, and parallel bars. The rest of the team was not there yet, so they made their hesitant way towards the middle of the floor, where their coach was waiting expectantly. He gave them a tight smile and a nod, and told them to have a seat while they waited for the rest of the team. Presently about four other boys filtered in. All four were carrying bags bearing the lettering: Saint Christopher's gymnastics team. Quatre and Trowa had made the correct choice of attire; the rest of the team was also decked out in an assortment of shorts and T-shirts.

"Hey, coach!" one of the boys with spiky brown hair greeted.

"Good evening, Charlie."

No more was said until all six boys were seated at the coach's feet.

"Boys, you're getting older. I know this seems like an obvious statement, but it means that you're getting stronger. Your bodies are sturdier, more durable, and because of that, we're going to train harder than ever. I want you all to remember what kind of sport you are representing. Gymnastics. Strength. Power. Grace. Flexibility. Elegance."

He took a deep breath here, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Coach Riker. I'll train you hard, yes, and there will be times when you will all feel like quitting, but boys, we'll be intercolonial champions this year, mark my words.

At this a few half-hearted mumbles of , "Yes, coach," were heard.

"What's that, boys?"

This seemed to be some kind of team signal, for the four boys who had been on the team last year stood up at once, saluted by raising one arm, and yelled,

"Yes, Coach Riker!"

"Now that's more like it. Andy," and here the coach turned to speak to a solemn-looking, silent brown haired boy, "You're team captain for this year. Take them out for a jog to get their muscles warm while I talk to the new guys." He smiled indulgently, "Then you can all get to know them during stretch warm-up."

Andy nodded, and wordlessly motioned for the team to follow him. They ran out of the gym. As soon as they were out the door, the coach seemed to relax, and adopt a more casual stance.

"You must be Quatre and Trowa. I'm so glad you chose gymnastics. We really needed some new blood." The coach winked at the end of his sentence.

Quatre and Trowa both stiffened involuntarily at the word blood, but quickly realized it was just an expression.

Coach Riker didn't seem to notice this, or if he did, he didn't let on.

"How much gymnastics experience do you guys have, or are you beginners?"

Trowa answered first. "I have acrobatics experience because I worked in a circus for about a year. I pick things up quite easily."

Quatre looked a little intimidated, but answered as well, "I'm a beginner. We had to know the basics of acrobatics in the war… but I don't know how that'll translate. As I understand, there's more to gymnastics than just the floor exercise."

Here Coach Riker beamed from ear to ear. Enthusiasm for his sport was just vibrating through his whole body.

"How right you are about that. There are six events in men's gymnastics. They include the floor exercise, the vault, the parallel bars, the high bar, the rings, and the pommel horse. Gymnastics will test every level of your fitness, from your strength and endurance to your flexibility and grace."

Quatre smiled here, "Trowa, it looks like this is your domain!"

Just then the rest of the team came jogging back in through the gym doors. They were out of breath, and stood there, panting for a while.

"Boys! You're out of shape! This will never do. Next practice you run double that!" coach barked.

A chorus of groans greeted this statement. Then they sat down in a circle and began stretching. It seemed that each boy was in charge of his own stretching, so Quatre and Trowa followed the example of the other boys, and began stretching their straddle sits and their hamstrings. Charlie, who seemed the most outgoing of the team, began the introductions. His muffled voice came from the ground, where he was currently grinding his face in an effort to push his stomach farther into the ground in his straddle.

"My name's Charlie, what're yours?"

Quatre slid effortlessly into a perfect straddle as he replied,

"I'm Quatre Winner, and this is Trowa Barton."

"The gundam pilots?" Charlie's voice was no longer muffled as he moved to stretch into a bridge position.

"Yes." Trowa answered this simply. Nothing else was said, and to avoid an uncomfortable silence, Quatre asked the names of the other members of the team.

"Over there by the bars is Andy." Andy waved upon hearing his name. "He's team captain this year. And over there's Kael." He pointed to a small red-headed boy over by the chalk bucket. Kael waved cheerfully as he pulled himself out of his bridge. "That there's Liam. He doesn't talk much." Liam was a somber looking Asian boy. All four boys were quite well built, but quite short, between 5 foot 3 and 5 foot 9.

Suddenly Coach's whistle blew. "Okay boys, it's your favourite time of the day!" Groans went up all around the room from the various places people were stretching. "Yes, that's right, get into splits! I'm timing, 5 minutes, and no cheating!"

Being gundam pilots, it had been necessary for all 5 of them to stay flexible, so Quatre and Trowa didn't have much problem with splits. They were mostly down all the way, but both had to work a little bit on their middle splits. Work out was hard, but they picked up skills quite easily. By the end of the lesson, Quatre and Trowa both could do standing back tucks (back flips) and back handsprings very easily. Coach was pleased. As they left he slapped them on their backs and told them they had great potential. As they headed back for their room, they knew they'd be sore in the morning, but it was a good feeling. It was a feeling of having accomplished something that neither boy had felt since the end of the war.


	9. Une Chanson Triste

**Chapter 9: Une Chanson Triste**

A/N: Warning: Mention of drugs.

"Pass it here, Duo!" a teammate yelled from down at the opposite wing. It was the first game of the season, and the team had been practicing hard. Duo, already knowing the importance of team work, a lesson hard learned during the war, nodded, and passed the puck across the ice.

Duo had shown such talent at practice that Coach Higgins had immediately added him to the first string of forwards. He had been heaped with praise at his athletic talent. So much so, in fact, that it was obvious that a few of the players were jealous. Duo had found himself feeling a little cynical at that. He wished they knew how hard won his "natural talent" was. Luckily, Duo's charm won over most of the team, and they were functioning well tonight. The score was 1-0: for Saint Christopher's.

A rush of cold air blew past Duo's face as the Sentennial players rushed to catch up with Rick, to whom Duo had passed the puck. The clattering of sticks and boards was fierce, but they were too late, and Duo knew itRick was on a breakaway, and he slid the puck easily between the goalie's legs. 2-0 for Saint Christopher's. Coach Higgins blew the whistle.

"Ok, boys, change it up! We've got enough of a lead. 2nd string, you're on! Don't let us down!"

There was a lot of clattering and tripping as the 3 boys already on the ice hobbled over to the bench in their skates. The 2nd string forward players jumped over the side of the rink, in a flurry of jersey's and helmets. The game was back on!

Duo looked up into the stands at his 4 compatriots. Quatre waved down cheerfully, and the other boys smiled slightly. Grinning to himself, Duo refocused himself on the game. It was nice to have a goal again. He could easily fall back into "mission mode" and his old routines again. Granted, this wasn't at all like war, and indeed he was glad it wasn't. It _was_ nice, though, to settle into his old routine again and win.

2nd string was playing well, but their 1st string defense was getting tired. Coach ordered another switch over and once again chaos reigned as sweaty teenagers clambered around in bulky equipment. Duo found it quite ironic that he had gone into armed combat wearing less safety gear.

After the second period, Saint Christopher's was sitting pretty at 3-0 scoring. However, as the third period wore on, it was obvious that their efforts had taken a toll on the Saint Christopher's players. As the second goal of the night for Sentennial was scored, Coach Higgins called a time out.

"They're catching up, boys, and do you know why?"

A chorus of moans and grunts came from the exhausted players.

"Well, I'll tell you then. It's because you're giving up! Now I want to see you all giving it your hearts, souls, and _livers_ out there! Let's widen our lead!"

Coach's enthusiasm seemed to have perforated the minds of the teenagers sitting in front of him. They went on the ice with new gusto for the game. They played hard for 15 minutes, and though they didn't score again, neither did the other team. Suddenly, a Sentennial player broke through the defenses. The team watched helplessly as a one on one battle played out between their goalie and the player. They needn't have worried. Danny was on fire tonight, and executing a series of movements that shouldn't have been humanly possible, Danny landed in the middle splits, preventing the puck from entering the net! The spectacular save gave Saint Christopher's new heart, and the first string forwards made their play. Going up the ice, Rick, Davis, and Duo passed the puck back and forth, avoiding the other team and body checking hard when they couldn't be avoided. The puck finally came to Duo and he shot it straight into the upper right corner of the net. Just in time! The buzzer rang and the Saint Christopher's team descended on Duo in a massive group hug.

As they headed towards the change rooms, Rick slapped Duo on the back and said,

"Hey, man, great game. Wanna come to an after game party?"

Duo hesitated slightly. Heero was going to want to do mission debriefing tonight. Plus, he couldn't abandon his friends.

"Could the guys come?" Duo asked slowly, his mind pondering possible scenarios.

"Course man! Everyone's invited! It's in town. A friend of mine's family has a place."

"What about the principal? And coach?"

"Awww, they know! Everyone just signs out and says they're going to the team party. We aren't prisoners!"

"Well, okay, I just have to check with Heero."

"You his bitch or something'?" Rick was starting to sound challenging. They were all in the change room now, and pulling off their skates.

"No! Of course not, I just want what he wants to do."

"Now don't get offended, I didn't mean nothin' by it. Call me on my cell when you know."

Rick handed Duo a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.

"Thanks, I will."

From the moment the five pilots stepped into the glaring lights and blaring music in the house where the party was being held, Duo knew that it wasn't a good idea. However, they had come too far to stop now, and they forged ahead. Duo pretty much voiced everyone's thoughts for them when they came upon the party scene, though,

"Well, shit."

Quatre's POV

The whole house smelled like sex and alcohol. A heavy stink of drugs was layered in the atmosphere. Blaring music assaulted our ears and teenagers were _everywhere._ The five of us moved uncertainly over to a couch. As we sat down, I looked over at my friends. I could already sense their jumbled emotions, ranging from disgust to fear. Heero looked about as lost as I felt, and Wufei wore a look of consternation. Duo just looked troubled, and Trowa, well… he didn't look comfortable at all. Following protocol, we sat and observed for a few minutes. Suddenly Duo let out a horrified exclamation,

"Oh, God."

We soon saw what he had been referring to. Over on the couch opposite us was a very unstable looking teenager injecting an unidentifiable substance into his arm. Something like a whimper was ripped from my lips, though it took a while for me to notice that it was me who made the sound. My hands were shaking, and the other guys weren't doing much better than me. Given that, I don't know why it surprised me so much when Wufei catapulted himself into action, and launched himself at the other boy. He ripped the needle from his hands, and threw it as hard as he could towards the opposite wall. Before the we could even register what Wufei had done, he was running out the door. We quickly followed.

We sat outside on the doorstep for what seemed like hours, but was probably in reality less than 20 minutes. I was lost in a recollection I had thought I had put behind me.

Flashback:

He was strapped down to a chair. He was restrained from head to toe, though this didn't prevent him from trying to recoil in absolute terror, as the doctor and the needle drew closer to him.

"Don't look at me like that, Quatre, this is for your own good. You'll thank me for it later."

The plunger was depressed, and Quatre allowed himself to slip into oblivion, knowing that the world that awaited him when he awoke would be filled with a drug-induced pain, as Instructor H counteracted his normal growth process with hormone replacement therapy.

The first round of drugs, he had been told, were to prevent him from exceeding the size limit in his gundam. There would be no time for cockpit adjustment during the fighting, so Instructor H said, and in addition, being small was essential for missions that involved stealth, and possible crawling through air conditioning vents. The second was to ensure that he would retain the proper body strength despite his diminutive size. Then there had been the third and fourth rounds, and the frightening part about them had been the fact that he wasn't told what they were for.

He was ripped from his painful recollections by a strong arm snaking its way around his shoulders, and as he came back to himself, he realized he was crying, softly. Alarmed, he tried to stem his tears, but found that the more he tried, the less successful he was. So he gave in, leaning into Trowa's comforting arms.

End Quatre's POV

Collecting himself, Heero stood up.

"Let's go," he said gruffly.

They had all been disturbed by the scene at the party. The others nodded their ascent, and they began the walk to the bus stop. It had started to rain while they were inside, and so, cold, wet, and tired, they sat down on the bench beside the sidewalk. They didn't talk about what they had seen. Having all gone through the same painful process, each pilot already knew how disturbed the others were feeling. It had been awful to see someone voluntarily _allowing_ the drugs to take over their life when they themselves had had no choice. If being manipulated by an aggressive regiment of drugs wasn't enough to utterly destroy any tolerance for drugs as a recreational means in each of the pilots, the withdrawal symptoms at the end of the war certainly were.

As they got off the bus, they made their way back to the school in shell shocked silence until Duo broke in,

"Guys?"

An assortment of grunts greeted his question.

"I want to go home."

This was said with such an intonation of despair that for a moment, nothing was said in response. The other pilots all considered the preventers HQ they had come to perceive as home over the past year. Eventually, it was Trowa who replied for them all,

"I think we all do, Duo."

On the way up to their room, the boys ran into Dr. Gus.

"Have a good time boys?" Dr. Gus' voice was enthusiastic and warm, and to his credit, his grin faded only a little when he received their stony looks. He didn't miss a beat.

"I guess not, then. Have a good sleep, don't let the bed bugs bite," and with a wink, a chuckle, and a skip in his step, Dr. Gus was off.

"He's got a good heart, that man does," Quatre said with quiet certainty.

"If you say so, Quat," Duo responded, voicing his confidence in Quatre's judgement of character.

The halls were mostly deserted except for the occasional group of students loitering in the halls. It was late, a little past curfew, but the staff were being lenient because of game night. For this reason, the pilots were only a little surprised when they heard Joshua's voice calling, lowly, but in an absurdly compelling fashion.

"Hey guys! Where have you been? Robbie and I were looking for you. We wanted to congratulate you, Duo, on a great game!"

"Thanks Joshua."

Despite their exhaustion, mental and physical, Duo and Quatre found the strength to smile encouragingly at Robbie, who was all but hiding behind Joshua. Trowa, too, found some stores of gentleness in him usually reserved for the animals in the circus and his closest friends. Wufei and Heero hung back, a little more awkward than the others.

"We were… at a party."

A look of comprehension dawned on Joshua's face as he noted the distaste on his new friend's face.

"Oh. You should have asked me about it. I could have told you not to go there. Rick's parties are always disgusting."

"We'll certainly keep that in mind next time," Duo said, with a rueful grin.

"Heh… After that, I don't know if I want to go _anywhere,_" Wufei continued.

"Oh, don't say that. There are plenty of nicer places to go in town. I'll tell you what, I can take you all out somewhere after school one day next week, if you want."

The boys looked to Heero, who forced an excuse for a smile.

"That might be nice, Joshua. Thank you for offering."

Joshua didn't flinch at Heero's stiff formality, instead, he smiled warmly in return and said,

"Anytime."

Suddenly, Robbie spoke, for the first time in the presence of the gundam pilots. His speech was slow and faltering, but it was a start.

"W-we could take them to the park… To watch t-the sunset, like we sometimes do, right Joshie?"

Robbie looked so uncertain of himself that Joshua hastened to reassure him.

"That's a great idea, Robbie, I'm sure they'll love that!"

At that point, Joshua glared significantly over Robbie's head, as if daring the pilots to disagree. Nobody did, however, and the usual pleasantries were exchanged as the boys said goodnight.

Entering their room, the pilots got ready for bed quietly. Nobody was quite sure who had made the decision, but 20 minutes later found the bunkbeds pushed together, and the five teenagers stretched out close by each other on the bottom bunks, sleeping soundly.


	10. Nocturne in C Minor

**Chapter 10: Nocturne in C Minor**

Trowa stared hard out the window. He was curled up on the window seat, watching and listening to the rain, which pounded mercilessly onto the field below. Outside, Heero's soccer team practiced relentlessly, but Trowa hadn't noticed this. He hadn't spoken or moved all day since he had woken 5 hours before. He'd had a horrific nightmare the night before. He could hardly remember what it had been about, but he had a vague sense of screams and gunshots. He didn't know what exactly had happened after the nightmare, but he supposed he must have cried out because he had a vague memory of thrashing against Quatre's soothing hands. After that, there was warm water, and finally dry sheets. His whole body burned in shame as he realized what his friends had had to do for him. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, and rested his head on them. It was still raining.

The door to their room opened and closed quietly, and Quatre tip toed in. Trowa had been horribly sick the night before. He'd woken at 3 am screaming about everyone being dead, and he'd fought hard against any comforting touch; Quatre had a black eye to prove it. When he'd finally calmed enough, Duo and Quatre had carried him to the bathroom. Quatre had held him and soothed him as he vomited and retched into the toilet. Afterwards, they got him into a warm bath with much difficulty because sometime between retching and gasping, Trowa had gone completely limp and his eyes had gone glassy. He was somewhere else, which was probably a blessing in disguise. Meanwhile, Wufei and Heero had stripped his drenched bed and replaced the sheets. By the time they'd gotten Trowa back to bed, they were all exhausted, but wide awake. A thick silence descended over the room, but none of them had gotten anymore sleep that night.

So it was with great trepidation that Quatre disturbed Trowa's self-enforced solitude and sat down next to Trowa on the window seat. For a moment, neither spoke, and then:

"Hey," Quatre intoned quietly.

He received no verbal response, but slowly, ever so slowly, Trowa uncoiled himself and stretched his legs out in front of him. He turned his gaze from the rain to Quatre's face, and for a moment Quatre saw nothing but green. He blinked and smiled softly at Trowa, who inclined his head in response. Quatre sighed heavily; sometimes there were no words. Instead he curled himself up and lay down, his head resting on Trowa's lap. He felt Trowa stiffen, and waited with baited breath to see what he would do. Eventually, he heard Trowa exhale and felt the muscles in his legs start to relax. Suddenly Quatre felt the last night catch up with him. His whole body seemed to weigh a tonne and his eyelids two each. They fluttered closed and he shut out the world. Just before he fell asleep, he felt a brush of fingertips by his temple. Trowa was stroking his hair.

When Quatre awoke hours later, Trowa was nowhere to be found. He frowned delicately, wondering how Trowa had managed to move without waking him. He stretched and stumbled, trying to shake feeling into his numb limbs. He looked at the clock, which read 5:30, and gasped with surprise: He had been asleep for more than 5 hours.

"Duo wanted to wake you, but Trowa said you needed the sleep."

Quatre whirled around, heart pounding, to find Wufei sitting cross legged on his bunk with an open book in his lap. He exhaled in relief.

"Allah, Wufei! I thought I was alone."

Wufei allowed a small smile of amusement to cross his lips.

"The others went down to dinner. I was waiting for you to wake up."

Quatre grinned wryly to himself. Wufei always got straight to the point.

"I guess we should catch up with them then."

Wufei nodded in response. As the two set out for the mess hall, a thought occurred to Quatre.

"Wufei, was Trowa feeling better?"

Wufei took a moment to answer.

"It was hard to tell. Barton doesn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but I believe he was better. He was more alert than this morning, but still quieter than usual."

Quatre smiled to himself. Wufei still referred to his friends by their last names whenever he was worried about them. He was ashamed of showing his concern, but Quatre wasn't fooled by his gruff manner at all. They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

The mess hall was packed. It was Saturday night, and practically everybody was crammed into the small cafeteria.

"Oi! Quat, Fei, over here!"

Quatre and Wufei homed in on the source of Duo's voice, which was coming from their left. Trowa, Duo, and Heero were seated at a table with Joshua, Robbie, and a few people Quatre and Wufei had never seen before. They crossed the room and sat down at the two empty spots.

"Hey guys, we saved you some dinner!" Duo said cheerily, gesturing at the two trays in front of Quatre and Wufei.

"Gee, thanks Duo," Wufei said sarcastically as he took his own plate, which looked considerably less edible than the plate of spaghetti Quatre was given.

"Is it my fault the cafeteria ladies decided mystery meat was on the menu?" Duo asked innocently. Wufei glowered at Duo, but made no other comments as he dug into his food.

Quatre tuned Duo out as he began describing his antics at hockey practice earlier that day. He looked over at Trowa, who smiled slightly at him.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Relieved that Trowa was talking again, Quatre nodded, his cheeks colouring ever so slightly.

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have let me sleep that long. I'll never get to sleep tonight!"

"You looked like you needed it," Trowa's face twisted into a grimace, "I'm sorry I kept you up last night."

"Oh, Trowa…"

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by Duo, who was loudly asking a question.

"So what do you think of that plan, guys?"

"Sorry?" Quatre asked, his expression puzzled.

Duo gave a long suffering sigh.

"You guys never listen to a word I say, do you?"

Duo waved Quatre's second apology away impatiently.

"Joshua and Robbie want to know if we want to come to the park with them tonight. We can bring a Frisbee and toss it around or something."

Quatre looked over at Trowa to make sure, but when Trowa nodded, Quatre smiled brightly at Robbie.

"We'd love to go."

After obtaining a permit to leave the school, the group made their way to the park. After a rousing game of ultimate Frisbee, which Duo, Heero, Robbie, and Joshua won by a slight margin against Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei, the group wound up sitting in a circle.

"Whew! Great game, guys!" Duo's cheerful voice broke the comfortable silence.

"For a moment there, I thought Quatre might actually catch the disc," Joshua smiled cheekily.

Managing a highly affronted look, Quatre snorted, "Are you suggesting that I am a less than competent player?"

Teasingly, Duo said "No, he's suggesting you were too busy looking at Trowa to notice the Frisbee!"

Blushing deep red, Quatre muttered "I was worried."

"What was that, Quatre?" Heero asked, a grin spreading across his normally impassive face.

"Nevermind," Quatre mumbled, and he looked up, only to find all 6 of his friends grinning at him, including Trowa.

"Guys! Stop pulling my leg!"

Suddenly Robbie spoke up for the first time.

"Look, guys, the sunset is beautiful!"

Everyone turned around to look. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, even tinted purple in places. Glad the attention was off him, Quatre smiled serenely. The sunset may have been artificially generated, but that didn't take away from its beauty. If Robbi had asked Quatre this time the year before if he thought the sunset was beautiful, Quatre would not have had time to answer him. So Quatre took this moment of peace, with his friends all around, and cherished it for all he knew it was worth. Today was a good day.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Charlie, keep your stomach in!" Nine! Ten! Okay, start running. Go! Faster, Kael!"

Quatre and Trowa grinned to each other as the other boys groaned in dismay. It was Monday night gymnastics practice and Coach Riker was really driving them hard. They were playing a particularly brutal conditioning "game" which involved them sprinting around the gym until the coach yelled out some exercise and a number. Once they had finished the exercise, they had to continue running until the coach finally called it off. Usually he did so after about 15 minutes of this, but tonight he was stepping it up. Their first meet was in one month, and he wanted the team to make a good impression.

"Push-ups, 30!" the coach yelled, and the 6 of them dropped to fulfill his command. The other 4 boys struggled hard, Kael collapsing in the middle of his 10th push up. They had been at this for almost half an hour, and though Quatre and Trowa were only just starting to feel the burn, the others were almost past the point of exhaustion. Coach Riker, seeing this, called his team off.

"Okay boys, run another lap to cool down and then you're done." He chuckled slightly as every boy sighed with relief.

"I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," Charlie groaned in dismay.

"Ha! We haven't even stretched yet, Charlie," Kael said despondently, his small body shaking from exertion.

"The things we suffer for love of this sport…" Andy sighed melodramatically as the group slowed to a walk.

Quatre and Trowa grinned at each other as they began stretch warm up.

"Hey Quat, you think you can outflip me today?"

Quatre scoffed in self-depreciation. "Hardly."

Trowa was fast becoming the rising star of the team. His circus training allowed him to excel on floor and high bar, and his other events weren't too shabby either. Quatre was having a harder time of it. He could chuck most of the skills, even a double back flip if he wanted to. He was only having trouble making it look good. Elegance and form came only with practice. Coach Riker didn't seem too worried though. He kept saying it would come with time.

The boys lined up to practice their tumbling. They started with the basics: round-offs and back handsprings. When it came to Quatre's turn for the third time, Coach Riker asked if he was ready to try for a double back. To be honest, Quatre was really nervous about flipping twice in the air, but he had been trained not to express fear. Fear was usually a useless emotion. Trowa smiled encouragingly down at Quatre.

"You can do it, Quat. I know you can."

Quatre smiled back and nodded at the coach, who took up spotting position. Quatre saluted and took off. He gathered speed and momentum in his round-off back handspring, and pushed up as hard as he could from his back handspring to do the double back. Right from take off, he could tell something was off. He was crooked in the air. The coach made sure he completed the two rotations without landing on his neck, but he could do nothing to prevent the searing pain that Quatre felt on impact, as his left ankle buckled underneath him. Gasping, Quatre curled his body into a fetal position, clutching his ankle. He couldn't catch his breath, the pain was white hot, and he had no doubt that he had torn something.

"Quatre! Are you alright?"

The question came again and again, but Quatre gave no answer. His mind was pain-fogged, and he sighed in relief when he felt a familiar presence next to him.

"Quatre, what's your status?" Though the question sounded impersonal, Trowa's tone was infinitely gentle, and his hand on Quatre's shoulder indicated his support. In between gasps, Quatre reassured Trowa.

"I'm… I'm okay."

"Can I see?" With effort, Quatre removed his hands from his ankle, which was already swelling and turning blue. He heard a few of his teammates wince in sympathy, and the coach gently elevated his leg.

"Trowa, he needs to go to the nurse's station." Trowa nodded.

"Quatre, can you walk on it?"

"That's really not advisable," Coach Riker broke in, eyes wide at the suggestion. Trowa just shrugged.

"Alright then." He gently lifted Quatre to his feet. Quatre leaned dizzily against him, standing on his good leg.

"C'mon, Quat," Trowa said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "I'll carry you."

Quatre nodded gratefully and jumped with his good leg onto Trowa's back. Trowa caught him and lifted him higher, gently.

"Are you sure you can piggy-back him the whole way, Barton?" Trowa just stared at the coach with an offended look.

"Of course I can."

"Andy! You're in charge of practice. Don't let anyone do anything dangerous until I'm back."

Without further ado, the three of them left the gym for the nurse's station.

"Look boys, there are stairs ahead. Trowa, are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? Maybe Quatre should try limping up them."

Trowa just sent him a withering look and climbed the stairs. Though Quatre had stayed quiet the whole way, he could tell Quatre was in a lot more pain than he was letting on. He was tense all over and holding his breath.

As soon as they reached the nurses station, Coach Riker paged the nurse. As Quatre was being examined, Trowa activated the watch turned communicator Commander Une had given them all at the start of this whole "mission." Heero's face appeared on the screen.

"Yes?'

"There was an accident at practice. Quatre's been hurt."

"How badly?" Heero asked in a clipped tone.

"It's a pretty bad ankle sprain. I think he's torn about 3 ligaments."

"We'll be there soon. Heero out."


	11. Con Expressione

**Chapter 11: Con Expressione**

One of the senior school nurses, Miss Ayla Kahn, readied herself for bed. It had been a long, trying day and to cap it off, she had night shift in the infirmary. Working with recovering children was in general a rewarding experience, but today had been one of her most grueling in recent memory. When, at 5:30 in the morning a call had come in through her intercom requesting her presence immediately in a student's room three floors above her own, she had known that it would not be her day. Her assumptions were proven correct. Later that day there had been no less than five medical emergencies. Four of them had been provoked by stress in group or individual therapy, but the fifth, and most serious, had been caused by nothing less mundane than a food allergy. The poor boy's throat had swollen up and cut off his airflow after exposure to some nuts a friend had received from a care package. Nuts were forbidden at Saint Christopher's High School for that exact reason. Ayla sighed and rubbed her temples as if warding off the inevitable and fantastic headache the day's events had caused her. In the morning she would have to take steps to ensure that such an incident with nuts was not repeated, but it would have to wait until then. After checking on her remaining patients, a boy and a girl who had suffered nervous breakdowns earlier that day, she sunk down on to the camp bed she always slept in when she had overnight patients. With her last conscious thought she prayed to whatever deity might be listening that she could get a good night's sleep.

Given all this, it was with great regret and some annoyance that she was roused out of her slumber less than an hour later by an insistent banging on the door. She turned over and, fumbling with her glasses turned on the light.

"Hey! Ayla! You there?"

Ayla barely suppressed a groan of dismay as she realized who was on the other side of the door. Coach Riker, while likeable enough, was an unrelenting presence, especially where his athletes were concerned. Great, she thought dismally, another injury to the gymnastics team, another month of being hounded over whether or not said injured athlete would be able to resume full training and compete in time for the regionals. But Ayla was a strong woman, and although she dreaded being confronted by Riker at her lowest ebb, she dragged herself out of her warm confines. Still blinking sleepily, she opened the door so fast Coach Riker almost fell into the infirmary.

"Shh! You'll wake my patients!"

Ayla glared at Riker before gesturing at him to come in. Riker stepped in, and as he did so, Ayla got her first glimpse of her new patient. A boy she hadn't seen before stood hesitantly in the doorway, his hair hanging mysteriously over one eye. As she blinked the last of her sleepiness away, she noticed that he was carrying another boy on his back, the shock of blond hair contrasting against the other boy's honey brown.

"Come in, Trowa, and place him on the exam table over there," Coach Riker dictated, gesturing to a table on the far left of the room beside the sink and dispensary.

The boy, Trowa, she told herself, obeyed Riker and backed up so that his friend could get off his back and onto the table.

"Ayla, meet Trowa Barton and Quatre Raberba, the two newest additions to my team!"

Ayla fought back a wince at Coach Riker's booming voice. She was glad she had given the two sleeping patients in the back heavy sedatives before retiring herself. Riker was utterly hopeless when it came to matters of discretion.

"Nice to meet you."

The blond boy spoke for the first time, even extending his hand for her to shake. Caught a little bit off guard, Ayla smiled truly at him and shook his hand. It wasn't usual for the students at this school to have such good manners, especially if they were in pain. Looking at the boy's ankle, which was about twice its natural size and was rapidly turning blue, she guessed that this was the case.

"Riker, would you like to tell me how this came about?"

"Er, well, you see, it was just a little accident. Nothing I'm sure an ice pack and a day of rest won't cure. He'll be up and training before he knows it, right Quatre?"

Before the boy could answer, Ayla interceded.

"Wrong!" Ayla wrung her hands, half in amusement, half in exasperation at Riker's determination not to admit anything was wrong with one of his athletes.

"Riker, I know the meet is important, but this looks like a third degree sprain. He shouldn't even walk on it, let alone tumble!"

Riker grumbled under his breath and shifted from foot to foot.

"I was afraid you'd say something like that."

Ayla let out a bark of dry laughter.

"I'll bet you were!"

She made eye contact with Quatre and moved forward cautiously to inspect his ankle. One never knew how an injured student at this school would react, even if this one had earlier seemed friendly. As it turned out, it wasn't Quatre she should have worried about. No sooner had she taken his swollen ankle in her hands than a sharp sound startled her.

"Don't touch him!"

Quatre gave a gasp of pain as Ayla's starting caused his ankle to be jostled. She whirled around to find Trowa inches away, his stance wide and posture protective. Neither of them moved. Every sinew in Trowa's body was tensed and he looked very much the dangerous gundam pilot he once was. Ayla took deep breaths and tried to collect herself. She hoped she wouldn't have to press the red button near the wall that would call a dozen counselors and security guards into the room. Sometimes it was frightening to be reminded just how tightly wound most of the students at the school were. Luckily, before she deemed that necessary, Quatre bailed her out.

"Trowa, it's okay. She's a good person, I can feel it."

Trowa's stance relaxed, but only slightly.

"Really, Trowa. She just wants to help. I know it."

Ayla watched in amazement as Trowa turned to look at Quatre, who had his hand over his heart. They stared at each other for a few moments. The tension finally seemed to go out of Trowa and he _melted_, positively _melted_ back into the shadowy corner of the room. Ayla shivered. This boy was deadly.

Considerably shaken, Ayla focused her attention back on Quatre, who was affecting an encouraging look.

"It's okay," he reassured one more time.

Quatre made not one sound of complaint as his ankle was probed and examined. Finally, Ayla turned to a hopeful looking Coach Riker.

"I'm sorry, Coach, but it looks like this one will be out for a while."

Coach Riker deflated immediately, his lips pursing and his eyes taking on a stressed and disappointed look. Ayla barely suppressed a giggle at the man's obvious distress. She turned back to Quatre.

"Like I said, it's a third degree sprain and you should be off your feet for two to three weeks at least. It'll have to be crutches for you until then."

With a rueful grin, Ayla produced some old crutches from a storage closet.

"Sorry about the quality of these old things. I'll have some better ones sent to your room in the morning. It's just that they're all in storage and I don't have the key at the moment."

Luckily, Quatre didn't seem too bothered. She began to wrap his ankle.

BANG! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ayla's brow crinkled in irritation. There went the door. Again! Putting down the tape, she sighed and got up.

"Excuse me."

Walking over to the door, she pulled it open violently and glared at the noisy pupils in the hall. Her own glare withered in comparison with the three stony stares she received from the three boys in the hall.

"Where's Quatre?" the boy with the long braid intoned, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Is he hurt? Can we see him?"

Ayla sighed. It appeared she was to get no peace tonight.

"Your friend is inside. Yes, you can see him. You can take him back to his rooms as soon as I've finished with his ankle.

She finished with Quatre as soon as she could and let the other four boys help him out of the office. Finally it was only her and Coach Riker left in the room. All Ayla wanted to do was return to the warm camp bed she had left what seemed hours before.

"Umm… Ayla?"

Ayla couldn't stop the note of irritation which slipped into her voice.

"Yes?"

"When can he start training again?"

"Argh! You are impossible Riker! What part of do not put weight on it for two to three weeks did you not understand! Bring him back in two weeks. Until then, he can do lots and lots of weight training, but nothing more! Capice!"

Dejected, Riker nodded. He was almost out the door before he poked his head back into the room.

"Ayla?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The next morning, as usual, was utter chaos for the pilots.

"Quatre! Hurry up!" Duo whined, hopping from foot to foot, "I've gotta go!"

Quatre's voice, muffled, but none the less irritated, came from within the bathroom.

"Duo, you try showering on one foot and we'll see which one of us is faster!"

Instantly, Duo's expression melted into one of concern.

"Do you need any help?"

"No thanks, Duo. I'll be okay."

Duo's expression suddenly melted back into one of unholy glee. He glanced around the room, found Trowa's gaze, and held it.

"Do you need _Trowa_ to come and help you?"

A loud crash came from in the bathroom, followed by a yelp.

"Ugh! Duo! Just go away. If you're that desperate, use the washrooms down the hall!"

"Okay! Okay, Quat." Duo acquiesced to his friend, but didn't miss Trowa's slight blush as he walked out. He winked at him in passing, chuckling a little as the colour grew deeper.

"Bye all! See you in class!"

"Well thank God for that!" came Wufei's voice from where he was stretching in the corner. Trowa and Heero nodded in agreement.

The five of them finally met up in the mess hall, quickly gobbling their bland oatmeal. They headed off to their separate classes, with Duo, Heero, and Wufei heading off to Advanced Physics (Duo had made quite a face when he realized which class they had next.) and Trowa and Quatre heading off to Chemistry. They would all meet up later in English.

The English classroom was abuzz with chatter as the boys found their way to their seats in the back of class. Today was the day they would get their poetry analyses back. They were worth about 30 percent of the term's grades, so understandably, the students were all quite nervous. All, of course, except for five students sitting coolly in the back row. Their teacher, Ms. Smedley, was recording marks primly on into her computer. As soon as the final bell rang, she shut the door and turned around to address the class.

"As you all know, today you will be getting back your poetry assignments. For the most part, they were well done, but a few of you really need to work on your writing skills. I will call you up one at a time in alphabetical order to discuss your mark with you individually. Ms. Anderson, you will be first."

The pilots paid sharp attention when Trowa was called to the front. After a few minutes, he returned to his seat and the other pilots asked to see his paper. He handed it over wordlessly. There was red ink all over it asking Trowa to make his own opinion on the subject clearer. It was unsurprising. Self-expression had never been Trowa's area of expertise. All the same, he had received a passing mark, and the pilots all relaxed somewhat. Duo, Quatre, and Wufei all retrieved their papers without incident, Wufei even receiving full marks. Finally, Heero was the only one in the room who had not been called to the front.

"Mr. Yuy."

Heero got up from where he had been sitting, talking to Duo. He had a bad feeling about this. Like Trowa, self-expression had never been his forte. In fact, his training had discouraged it violently. Heero advanced with a sense of trepidation, his stomach feeling like a ball of lead. This felt all too much like the evaluation days he had experienced once every two weeks when he had been training to become the perfect soldier. He sat down across from the teacher, his head down in a gesture of submission he had been taught for when his progress was being evaluated.

The tone voice Ms. Smedley used was grim and her expression more so.

"Look at me, if you please, Mr. Yuy."

She handed his paper back to him. She was talking, but Heero couldn't hear her. He was looking in horror at the word written on the top of his paper, blinking cruelly back at him in red block letters. FAIL. His breathing accelerated and his pulse quickened. His hands started to shake as he tried hard to keep himself under control. Failure. He was not permitted to fail; it wasn't an option, and there was only one punishment appropriate for such a sin. His resolve strengthened. He had failed. Therefore he was worthless. He would take it like the machine he was meant to be. He tuned his sense of hearing back in.

"I just didn't know what to do with it, Mr. Yuy. It was so short, only 3 paragraphs long, and it contained only stark statements of fact about the poem. If you remember, I had asked you numerous times to express what the poem meant to you. The goal of this exercise was to…"

Heero tuned her out again. Cold, Concise, Complete. The three C words so integral to his training had finally betrayed him in unfamiliar territory. Cold, Concise, Complete. He repeated it to himself like a mantra. Those words had surrounded and guided him through his life from the age of nine when he had found himself in the hands of scientists intent on training his humanity out of him. But there was no time for reminiscing. He had failed, it was his fault, all his fault, and it was only right that he should be punished. He turned to the teacher, who seemed to him to be looking at him expectantly. In reality, she was concerned. Heero's breathing was irregular and his pupils were dilated with… what? Fear? Dread? Suffering?

"I will assume the position," Heero said in a voice totally void of emotion.

Astonished, and more than a little disturbed, Ms. Smedley's mouth fell open.

"I beg your pardon?"

But Heero's body was now on autopilot, his mind stuck in another time and place. Wordlessly he stripped himself of his shirt and shoes. He all but fell to the ground, like a string puppet whose strings have been cut. He lay there, prostrate, his knees tucked up under him, waiting for the blows of a whip. None came. There could only be one reason for that. He looked dully up at the teacher and reached for his belt buckle. Nothing could make the humiliation more complete than nakedness. He had hoped that his failure was not great enough to merit a full body whipping, but it appeared to be so. He was just about to slide his pants down his hips when someone in the classroom finally found his voice.

"HEERO!"

Duo scrambled up from his desk, tearing his way to the front of the class. He grabbed Heero's hands and pinned them to his sides. Looking directly into Heero's eyes, he whispered:

"No, Heero. Never again. You never have to do that again! It's over, Heero."

Duo pulled him into a tight hug, guiding Heero's head to rest on his shoulder. Heero's next words, though muffled, were said with so much confusion and bewilderment that it made Duo want to cry.

"But I failed! I have to be punished, don't I?"

"No, Heero. I won't _let _anyone punish you."

Heero just stared into Duo's compassionate blue eyes. He stared for a long time, until he did something all too human. Tears welled up in his eyes and he began to shake again. He buried his head in Duo's chest and let out a heartrending, keening wail. It was like a dam had been released and huge, choking sobs caught in Heero's throat. As he cried for the first time in years, the other pilots surrounded him and Duo, blocking them from view.


	12. An Ametric Waltz

A/N: This is about the fastest I've ever churned out an update. Sadly, this does not reflect well on me, as the update follows at least a week of dead time. I'll try to get better about this. I'm sorry. I took extra care over this chapter; a lot goes on, and I hope it's understandable. In addition, there will be 3x4 content throughout the rest of this fic.

**Chapter 12: An Ametric Waltz**

Heero hung limply in Duo's arms while Duo stroked his air softly. He had been completely preoccupied with Heero since the unthinkable had happened. His friend had needed him, and for 15 minutes, nothing else had mattered. Heero had shuddered, Heero shook, and Heero had cried. But he was eerily calm now. Slowly the sobs had turned into gasps, and then to silent shakes, until finally Heero had gone completely, totally still. The way Duo could tell that he was still conscious was through his breathing. Heero's breaths, tickling his neck where his T-shirt had been pulled down, were still too measured, too calculated to belong to a sleeping man.

Duo was slowly coming back to himself. Noises were slipping past his consciousness, and he was starting to process what his brain had been filtering out. Nervous whispers and even giggles were starting to sweep across the classroom. He had forgotten about the other teenagers in the room. His brow creased in consternation. How were they going to get out of here? Resignedly, he opened his eyes, expecting to look upon a sea of curious and concerned students. What he did see was far more encouraging. Only 3, very familiar, concerned faces stared back at him. Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre were standing around Heero and him in a sort of semi-circle, obscuring them both from view.

"Is he ready to move, Duo?" asked Quatre in a whisper.

Duo nodded tightly. At least, he hoped so. Duo bent down and whispered into Heero's ear.

"Heero, buddy, do you think you could stand?"

There was no response.

"Heero?" Trowa asked in a tone he usually reserved for the shyest of animals.

Silence.

Gently, very gently, Duo grasped Heero by the shoulders, and lifted his upper body away from where Heero had buried his head in Duo's chest. If Duo was surprised by the glassy, vacant stare in Heero's eyes, to his credit it did not show, but Wufei swore uncharacteristically.

"Shit!"

Duo took a deep breath.

"So what do we do now?"

Quatre took a deep breath as he assessed the situation. Duo's voice now held a pleading note to it. He was at the end of his rope. Heero's breakdown had shocked him a lot more than he had let on in the beginning, and he was clutching Heero protectively to him. Someone needed to step into the role of leader and they needed to do it yesterday. The class was getting more impatient and curious, and the teacher was shifting nervously from foot to foot, reaching for the phone in the wall. Wait a minute, the phone in the wall?

"Don't touch that, Ms. Smedley,"

Quatre's voice came out sounding pinched and uncharacteristically cold, and the teacher dropped her hands and whirled around to look at Quatre, taken aback.

"I-I, well, I just thought that it might help if I called Dr. Johnson."

Quatre forced himself to calm down. He pasted on his best encouraging smile.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Ms. Smedley. Right now, Heero needs to be around people he knows he can trust, and although Dr. Gus surely has good intentions, he could only aggravate things at this point."

Understandably, Ms. Smedley didn't look as reassured as she could have. Her brow was creased and her lips pursed in indecision. Trowa stepped in.

"Ms. Smedley, we will notify Dr. Gus as soon as we get Heero back to our rooms and settled."

"Heero needs us right now," Wufei added, "Not a virtual stranger."

"Please, Ma'am." Duo added beseechingly.

"Well, I guess you gentlemen are right." She looked like she was about to add something, but if she did, none of the four heard her. They had completely refocused on the situation at hand.

Turning to Duo, Quatre took a deep breath.

"Duo, do you trust me?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Duo asked angrily. He was impatient to get Heero out of here.

"Just answer it!" Quatre snarled back just as impatiently. Duo sent him a hurt look, and Quatre apologized in his head.

"Of course I do!"

"Good. You're all going to have to trust me on this." Quatre rubbed at his chest unconsciously. "I know how to reach him, but it's not going to be pretty."

"What? Quatre, are you kidding? You promised you'd never…"

"Duo, just let me help! I know how to reach him."

"No! Look, Quatre, I know you're just trying to be a good friend, but I also remember that you lost control of your abilities once before! ZERO? You remember that, Quatre? I can tell you've been interfering, and I'm not going to let you mess with Heero's mind anymore. He doesn't need that!"

How could Duo? … of course Quatre remembered ZERO. It played an almost nightly part in his nightmares. Heero… and Trowa… Quatre tried to push his own hurt aside. He would deal with it later. All the same, he felt a rush of intense gratitude when Trowa defended him.

Trowa seethed inwardly with anger. How could Duo bring up such a painful memory at a time like this? He knew for a fact that Quatre still suffered the effects of his ZERO experience. He could tell when the bed underneath his shook every night because Quatre was struggling to keep quiet. Not to mention the memories it brought back for himself. The time between the Vayeate's explosion and his return to the battlefield was not one Trowa liked to remember. But there was no time for such personal problems. Heero needed help, and he needed it now. So Trowa schooled his features and steeled his voice.

"Duo, Quatre overcame his problems with the ZERO. You know that. You even took orders from him while he was under the influence! It doesn't matter anyways because the system is gone. I trust Quatre. If he says he knows what to do, then he knows what to do."

Quatre shot Trowa a wobbly smile. Now was not the time.

"Barton is correct. Now is a time when we need unity as a team. Infighting is not acceptable! I trust Winner." Wufei nodded curtly after his statement.

"I… well, alright. I do trust you, Quat."

Quatre didn't bother with thanks. He knelt down, mindful of his ankle, and looked into Heero's vacant eyes.

"01, do you read?" Quatre's voice was cold and impersonal.

"I read." The others barely repressed a shudder at the mechanical sounding words leaving their friend's mouth.

"What's your status?"

There was no answer.

"Report, 01!"

Quatre sighed. He hated doing this. He thought about his next move, Heero's dead eyes looking straight through him.

It's as I thought. He's shut himself down. Or rather, I've helped him to shut down. He thinks of himself as a nonentity; The perfect soldier. He's in the same frame of mind as he was right before he self-destructed the wing gundam. I can't let this go on.

"01, stand up!" Quatre's dominating tone of voice shocked all the other pilots.

"Quatre, don't be so cold!" Duo whispered harshly. But to his surprise, Heero rose, slowly and deliberately.

"01, walk to headquarters. Await further orders."

And with that Heero turned to leave the classroom.

"01!"

Heero turned around so fast it wasn't even funny.

"When you get there, sit on the bottom left bunk. Undress. Sleep."

"Understood." Heero stood there, as though awaiting further instruction. Quatre sighed heavily.

"Dismissed!"

Heero turned around and marched out of the class.

The other three watched him go, uncertain about what had just occurred. They all stared at Quatre in wonder. Duo regarded him searchingly. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Just go, Duo. He needs you."

Quatre, I…"

"Just go!" Quatre all but yelled. His breathing was ragged, and he had to resist the urge to clutch at his heart. His empathy didn't usually bother him like this, but he had overextended himself with Heero, and the people he was closest to were all in some degree of pain.

Duo took a last quick look at Quatre, then followed Heero. As soon as he was out of the room, Quatre seemed to fold in on himself. He let go of his crutches, which clattered to the ground. He would have collapsed, had strong arms not encircled him at just the right time.

"I h-h-hate doing that," Quatre half-sobbed.

"I know." Trowa rubbed Quatre's back in soothing circles, letting Quatre lean most of his weight on him. He felt rather than heard Quatre take a ragged breath.

"You hate doing what?" Wufei asked suspiciously.

Quatre moved back and wiped his eyes. He would not cry in front of everybody. He was stronger than that. He had told only Duo and Trowa the full extent of what he could do with his empathy. It was time to tell Wufei too.

"Sometimes," he whispered softly, so softly that only Wufei and Trowa could hear, "Sometimes, I can control what other people feel. I can project my own emotions just enough to let the other person feel a wisp of what I'm feeling. If their mind doesn't reject the feeling, they can hold onto it. It can become what they feel. That's what I did with Heero. I let him feel calm, and then I let him feel unafraid. Both were characteristics of the "perfect soldier," so Heero's mind held onto them to try to maintain some semblance of order. I-it came naturally… it was an instinctual reaction on my part to project, to try and protect him from all the pain he was feeling. He was having really dangerous thoughts-- Self-destructive thoughts. He really wanted to die! I didn't even realize I was doing it at first. Heero took those feelings I projected and held on with all his might. I thought, no, I knew I could help. I-I controlled him. I took control for his own good. I was just trying to calm him enough that he could deal with his feelings later. Later, when he wasn't thinking about how best to evade Duo and put a gun to his head. I had to do it, Wufei."

But Wufei only stared at him coldly.

"So Maxwell was right about your messing with his mind."

Quatre pulled back as though he had been slapped. Very quietly, he answered with a single word.

"Yes."

Wufei nodded and turned on his heel.

"Wufei!"

"No Winner! We could have helped. We could have subdued him! Nothing warrants mind control! I'm going to see Yuy. When I think I can talk to you without punching your jaw in, I will. Not before."

The door banged on its hinges as Wufei made his exit. Quatre turned desperately to Trowa.

"Trowa, tell me I did the right thing! Tell me I didn't hurt Heero."

"Quatre, what you did was necessary, even merciful. I don't know if it was right, but suicide is something Heero has struggled with before. Friends look out for each other, Quatre. I don't like to think what might have happened if you had let Heero stay hysterical. And he would have, Quatre. He had a huge nervous breakdown. He could have and would have killed himself. Nothing short of sedation could have calmed him down, and you know how Heero reacts to that."

Quatre looked at Trowa ruefully,

"It's more like he doesn't respond at all."

"Yeah." There was a long pause, and Trowa seemed deep in thought.

" I don't know if what you did was right. You did manipulate his mind." Quatre winced. "But I do know that if I were you, I would have done it in a heartbeat. Sometimes, there is no right or wrong decision, only the one you make because you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself had you made the choice to do nothing."

Quatre nodded uncertainly.

"I-I just…"

"I _know_, Quatre."

Quatre desisted. He took a deep breath, and took a moment to thank Allah he had a friend like Trowa. Trowa, who understood him when no one else did. Trowa, who had known right from the beginning what Quatre had been doing. He might even have sensed it; Trowa and Quatre sometimes shared a sense of each other. How else could Trowa have known he was in trouble on Libra? Quatre turned a grateful and exhausted gaze to Trowa.

"I don't think I'm welcome in our room right now."

_Thank you._

Trowa sighed.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. We can go sit outside by the trees if you want."

_You're welcome._

Trowa collected Quatre crutches and handed them to him. Nodding to the shell-shocked teacher as they limped past, the last of the gundam team left the English class.

Trowa and Quatre walked out of the school, unmindful of the fact that they were skipping class. A heightened awareness of each other and the connection they shared had followed the incident in English. They walked across the soccer field slowly because of Quatre's crutches, but in companionable silence. They settled under a grove of trees in the west corner of the school grounds, the afternoon sun shining peacefully down on them, in spite of everything which had just transpired. As Trowa helped Quatre to sit, Quatre found himself lost in Trowa's eyes. Green pooled around him until he could see nothing else.

"Quatre? Are you alright."

Blushing, Quatre tore his gaze away, before refocusing on the ground in front of him.

"It's nothing, Trowa. Just… thanks for standing by me."

Then Trowa did something that Quatre would remember forever. He reached across his own lap and Quatre's crutches, took Quatre's hand, and said,

"I'll always stand by you."

Duo was sitting on a stool beside Heero's bed, waiting for him to wake up. Beside him, Wufei was wearing out the carpet, pacing up and down the room.

" 'Fei, do you mind? You're driving me crazy!"

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried that I said some things to Quatre…" Wufei trailed off and wrung his hands.

Duo nodded.

"So did I."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Ya think that's Quatre and Trowa?"

"I don't know. Quatre seemed pretty upset when I left them."

The knocking came again, more insistently this time. And then, a familiar but unwelcome voice.

"Can I come in, boys?"

Duo groaned and Wufei snorted. Dr. Gus!

"Yeah, sure." Duo said in a cynical tone, "You can't possibly make it any worse."

Dr. Gus turned the lock and came in, his ever present grin not fading one bit.

"Glad to know you're so confident in my abilities, Mr. Maxwell. In turn, I promise not to comment on the fact that you are so obviously not in class where you are supposed to be."

Duo rolled his eyes, but failed to comment.

Dr. Gus took a seat on Quatre's bunk across from Heero's bed. His grin faded and was replaced with a look of complete seriousness.

"I was reliably informed of an incident that took place last block in English class. Care to explain?" Without giving them a chance to reply, Dr. Gus added, "You'd better start at the beginning."


	13. Solace

**_Chapter 13: Solace_**

Neither Duo nor Wufei commented when Quatre and Trowa strode into the room hand in hand. The conversation ceased for a moment; Duo paused in mid-sentence. But as soon as Quatre and Trowa had filled the empty spots in the circle Duo, Wufei, and Dr. Gus were sitting in, he continued what he had been saying.

"Then he just went rigid and he wasn't _there_ anymore, you know?"

"You are saying that Heero retreated into his own mind?"

Duo shifted uncomfortably. He had avoided mentioning Quatre's part in this so far, but it was becoming harder and harder to do so without actually lying. He chanced a quick glance at Quatre, but his ashen face only made his decision harder. Duo couldn't compromise his friend like this. So he pursed his lips, and stayed silent.

But Dr. Gus wasn't having any of it.

"Duo, the reason I'm asking this question is that I'm sure there is something you aren't telling me about what happened today."

"Well of course there is!" Duo blurted out. "Everyone in this fucking school has something to hide. That's why we're here! So Heero had a bad day. Why is it so important to you to squeeze every last detail out of us?"

Dr. Gus sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Look, supposing you were telling the truth—"

"I _never_ lie!" Duo declared hotly.

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as well, Dr. Gus reordered his thoughts.

"Alright. Supposing that what you told me was everything that had occurred…"

When no outraged reply was made, Dr. Gus continued:

"Heero was told he had a failing grade. His intense fear of failure, brought on by unspecified incidents in his childhood, triggered a flashback. The memory was violent, and Heero became very distressed, and told Ms. Smedley that he was awaiting punishment. At this point, Duo, you leapt up from your seat and tried to pull him out of the flashback. You held him until he stopped exhibiting signs of distress, and then discovered that he had retreated into his own mind."

After a period of silence, the counselor pressed on.

"The reason I'm so adamant about the truth, is that if Heero actually had a flashback so bad that it caused him to retreat into his own mind, it could be very difficult to get him back out. It could take months of therapy just to get him to speak again."

Duo was wrought with indecision. No real damage could be done if he just let Dr. Gus believe that was all there was to it. Heero would wake up in time, and though he would undoubtedly be upset and angry, Dr. Gus would see that Heero hadn't really broken down. On the other hand, if he did tell Dr. Gus what really happened, God only knew what would happen to Quatre. Newtype abilities weren't always welcomed, and empathy was a trait many people feared. While empathy itself wasn't against the law, the possible repercussions against using the ability, like Quatre had earlier that day, were enormous. Quatre could be sent to prison, or even executed for manipulating Heero's mind, regardless of his intentions. The legislation in place to protect people from such mental intrusions was hard and unforgiving… but if he confirmed Dr. Gus' version of events, it would be the first lie he'd told since he'd made a promise to Sister Helen that he would never lie again. He had kept that promise for 10 years; had made it through the entire war without telling a lie. But now? He had to betray someone, it was just a question of who. Coming to an agonizing decision, he opened his mouth to speak.

_I'm sorry, Sister._

"Well—"

"No!"

Quatre's shout rang out over the room, and Wufei immediately went to see whether Heero had woken up. Shaking his head at the others, he took his place beside Duo in the circle.

"Duo, I can't thank you enough for caring so much about me. But I'm just not worth it."

"Quatre—"

"No, Duo, this is my problem. I won't let you compromise your promise to Sister Helen."

"Quatre, you could be killed!"

Quatre smiled gently at Duo.

"The chances of that happening are very low, Duo. I'm a minor, I used to be a gundam pilot, and I have friends in very high places. Besides, capital punishment is hardly ever used in this day and age."

Wufei spoke up next.

"Duo, your willingness to compromise your personal views for Quatre's protection makes you a much stronger person in my eyes. You have my respect and love."

Turning to Quatre, he said:

"I hope you can forgive what I said in haste earlier today. I have come to the realization that you were trying to protect Heero from himself, and that furthermore, you succeeded. If you are, as I suspect, going to reveal yourself, you can count on my love and support."

"Wufei!" Quatre gasped as tears came unbidden to his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"Thank you, it means a lot to me."

He felt Trowa squeeze his hand and knew that he was at last ready. He would delay no longer. It was time.

"Dr. Gus, there _is_ something we haven't told you about what happened this afternoon…"

There was a pregnant silence, and Dr. Gus nodded uncertainly at Quatre.

"I always knew I was different. When I was small, I cried more easily and more often than any of the other kids. I also smiled, laughed, and screamed, sometimes for no apparent reason at all. My father tried everything he could think of. He took me to specialists, made me sit through analysis after analysis. Always, the diagnosis was the same.

'Your little boy is perfectly healthy, Mr. Winner.'

But on the way home, I would cry out unexpectedly, and Father would know that those doctors were lying. He tried everything he could think of to stop my abnormal behaviour. He tried rewarding me for good days, and he tried punishing me. Nothing worked. My father loved me… he really did. But he just didn't understand what was wrong. None of my sisters gave him trouble like this, and he was a busy man. Eventually, he became frustrated. He hired tutors for me because I was too disruptive to attend day school. I didn't see much of him after that."

Quatre took a deep breath before he continued.

"I was ten before I realized what was really happening to me, or more accurately, my father did. As I grew older, my erratic behaviour had only worsened, and I was frustrated and miserable. I guess when my father found me in my sister's dress, combing my hair in the bathroom, it was too much for him.

* * *

Omar Winner grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck, dragged him out of the bathroom and threw him down on the bed.

"What's wrong with you, Quatre? I give you the best food, the best tutors, the best of the best of everything, and this is how you repay me?"

There was despair and anger in Omar Winner's voice now. It was a wicked sort of anger, one that he was sick and tired of feeling but just couldn't hold back any longer. He had tried his best to love the boy, just like he had promised Quatrine. The boy had been nothing but trouble all his life and still! still Omar had loved him, had even given him private tutors when school proved too taxing on the boy's system. But now, here he was, in that _dress_. And he looked so much like Quatrine. It was unfair. Why couldn't it have been Quatre?

Omar regretted the feeling almost as soon as he felt it, and he was infinitely glad he hadn't said it out loud. From the way Quatre reacted, though, he might as well have. He barely had enough time to shield himself before his son flew at him, screaming bloody murder.

"You hate me! You hate! I'm your _son_ and you hate me more than you ever hated anyone!"

"Quatre, that's not true."

"Yes it is! It is! It is! It is! I'm a disappointment to you. You wish I had never been born."

"Quatre—"

"Don't lie to me! I _felt _it."

Suddenly, all the pieces slammed into place. Naimah was getting ready for prom: Quatre was in a dress. Omar had the most sinful thought of his life: Quatre knew.

"Quatre, I'm sorry. So very sorry."

* * *

"That's when we knew for sure I was an empath. I've kept it secret from everyone I've met since, except for Trowa and Duo. I've learnt to control the ability. I can block out almost everyone's emotions, except for those strong emotions from the people I am closest to.

With empathy comes great power, and great responsibility. I chose to use that power today, to control Heero's outburst in class. He was so ashamed… I could tell he was intending to kill himself as soon as he got away from Duo. So I took action. I calmed him down enough that his body was able to take control from me. His sleep is a natural one, and he will wake from it more or less normally, with time. He needs to talk about what happened, though. He hasn't retreated into his mind, but he is depressed, scared, and self-destructive. He'll need our help to recover.

I know what I did was illegal. I know many people would consider it deplorable. I will take responsibility for my actions, should you wish to have me prosecuted. I did what I did because I believed it to be the only way to protect Heero from himself. He doesn't respond to sedatives and physically he is the strongest of us. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

There was a long silence in the room after that. Trowa wrapped an arm around Quatre's shoulders. His whole body was tense, as if waiting for a blow.

"I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality not to tell anyone outside this room what transpires in here, unless I have reason to believe the information exchanged here pertains to the immediate safety of a person. Nothing of that nature has been said here."

Dr. Gus looked around the room as the boys absorbed his statement.

"Quatre, you and your friends are not bound by patient-doctor confidentiality. Therefore, I am trusting the four of you to use your integrity and discretion with what I am about to show you."

Dr. Gus took Quatre's hands in his own, and Quatre gasped as he felt a warm glow come over his whole body. Calm. Faith. Hope. Care.

"You too?"

"Yes, me too."

Getting up from the floor, Dr. Gus began writing something down in his notebook. He tore the page out, and handed it to Wufei.

"This is my personal page number. If Heero wakes up and is distressed, or for any other reason, you need my help, day or night, you may call me."

"Thank you," Duo's voice was gravelly with disuse.

"You are all welcome."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent in silent vigil by Heero's bed. It was five o'clock before he even stirred.

As soon as his eyelids fluttered open, Duo was there with a cold compress, gently wiping Heero's face and neck.

"Hey, buddy. You feelin' alright?"

"Where… where am I?"

The others looked at each other uneasily, unsure of how much he remembered.

"You passed out in class, Heero. Do you remember?"

There was a long silence as it all came rushing back to Heero: the failure, the confusion, the fear. Though he did his best to hide it, the vulnerability he still felt was audible in his voice.

"I… I don't really know what happened. I mean… I know what happened, but… I don't know why I lost control like that."

"Nobody can be perfect all the time, Heero," Trowa said soothingly.

"You had a flashback, Heero," Duo said just as bracingly, "We all have them."

"I guess I thought I'd put that time in my life behind me."

There was nothing, really, that anyone could say to that. Instead of responding, Duo got up from his stool, and sat down beside Heero on the lower bunk. The other three quickly followed suit, showing Heero by their physical presence how much they cared.

"Things will settle down, eventually. We just have to give it time."

* * *

"Alright boys, the regional meet is getting closer, and your routines have to be perfect. Quatre, you keep doing to ankle exercises, and I'll see if Ayla, I mean Nurse Kahn, will give you permission to do one or two events." Riker's eyes gleamed as though this was a privilege Quatre should be thankful for. "I'm sure you'll be able to do pommel horse at least. The dismount isn't too hard on your ankles. As for the rest of you: Kael, you and Charlie need to work bars. Trowa, you need to work on floor; Andy, you're on vault. Liam: rings." (Liam groaned uncharacteristically.) Ignoring this, Riker boomed, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

As Quatre watched Trowa warming up his floor skills, he felt a twinge of envy. His ankle injury hadn't gotten him out of gymnastics, just the fun parts. He grimaced as he looked at the seemingly endless conditioning list Riker had printed off for him. It seemed as though the man was punishing him for being injured. Sighing, he began his chin-ups, and watched Trowa fly gracefully through the air. At least he had a nice view.

"Stick!"

Coach Riker's voice carried across the whole gym as he yelled from where he was spotting Kael on the parallel bars to where Trowa was completing his double twisting somersault on the floor. His feet hit, and didn't move.

"Awesome, Trowa" Andy congratulated, "Do that in our meet and we'll be set!"

Trowa smiled tightly, unused to the praise. He wandered over to where Quatre was completing his last set of pushups. Obviously, being injured didn't mean he got to slack off. Smirking, he greeted Quatre.

"Hey, Quat. Having fun?"

Quatre wiped the sweat of his brow and glared. It was hard to stay mad, though as he thought of the ways he could wipe the smirk off Trowa's face. He supposed his predicament was at least partially amusing. Not many people had to work harder after they sustained an injury than they did before it. As they headed off to the change room, Quatre reached for Trowa's hand. Trowa responded to Quatre's touch by entwining their fingers. In the field earlier that day, everything and nothing had changed. It was a good feeling, but there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. He knew he felt something for Trowa that he didn't feel for anyone else, and he was pretty sure Trowa felt the same way. He hadn't actually said anything about it yet, but that wasn't Trowa's way. Still, he didn't know what to call their relationship. The term boyfriend seemed too frivolous, almost ridiculous. They'd gone to hell and back together and would go there again if they had to. Nor did the word lover seem to apply. It just… well, it didn't.

"Quatre?" Quatre looked up and realized they had made it to their room. Wondering why Trowa hadn't just opened the door and walked in, he made a puzzled reply.

"Yes, Trowa?"

"You think too much."

And with that Trowa leaned forward, and tilted Quatre's chin upwards. The kiss was long and deep, and when their lips finally broke apart, they found that their arms were intertwined around each other. As he leaned forward for the second time, Quatre smiled into the kiss; who needed words?


End file.
